#dream smp g/t

[brick-a-doodle-do]

ITS DOOOOONE WOOHOOOOOOO FIC TIMEEE :3333

SPIDERMANSPIDERMANSPIDERMAN! i originally wrote this for beckyu and i kind of still did but i feel bad giving her straight angst so it was INSPIRED by beckyu and her liking of superhero au's at the time dhdjfnnsn

ty to @munchkin1156 and @a-xyz-s for the ending ideas, ANDDD thank you munchkin, @dingbatnix and 3d for proofreading ILY 🫶

(title from doomsday by derivakat)

you're stuck in the web and caught in the lie

wc: 6748

cw: sfw vore, unwilling prey, fatal vore mention, mentions of puking, (lots of) panic, little comfort

—-—

The bulb in the bathroom teases with his sanity, flickering in the corner of Wilbur’s vision as he stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are heavy, exhaustion lingering on them, for moments before he had been passed out after a long night. Ultimately, he had been woken up by commotion in the streets, but loud feedback from the radio in his room is what drove him out of bed and stumbling into the connecting bathroom. 

Tommy, a borrower he had discovered just before starting his vigilante work, hadn’t been anywhere to be seen as of this morning, which he considered a given since he was housed on the other side of the flat and slept through almost anything.

So, it was just him, splashing water on his face and dabbing it dry with a hand towel. His mask hangs over the edge of the sink bowl, looking warped without a wearer. Wilbur stares at it, frowns, and sighs while swiping it off the porcelain. The tight, sturdy yellow and black fabric stretches in his fingers as he fidgets with the edge of it. After a tiresome moment of consideration, he swipes his hair back and slides the mask on, fitting it under the bodysuit. Wilbur then takes his top layers of clothes off, throwing his shirt and shorts onto the hamper and stretching in the skin-tight suit that makes him cringe.

His radio chatters louder than normal, screams and police sirens amplified through fuzzy audio. He briefly hears someone discuss his name—his hero one, at least—and discuss his absence. Wilbur yawns. He’d rather slip back under the covers of his bed and drift off until the foreseeable future. The only thing standing in the way between Wilbur and his comfort is his moral obligation to perform no bad. 

Offering his masked face a tired rub, he trudges from the bathroom with heavy feet and finds his way back into his bedroom, listening for any indication of where the disturbances are before shutting it off. It goes silent, and now audible are the distant sounds of police sirens echoing throughout the city. Wilbur unlocks his window and slides it open, stepping over the edge and out onto his fire escape. He shuts it, then places two fingers over his palm. Instantaneously, a pearl white web shoots from his wrist, latching onto a nearby building. Quickly, he pulls himself up onto the railing and jumps, hand wrapped tediously around the web as he swings, legs curled up with practiced ease. Through his fatigue, he finds his way through the city, web after web latching onto different buildings that he only lingers on for a few seconds before jumping to the next. 

A few flashes catch his attention from down below as the early-morning crowd of people notice the hero's arrival. For the most part, he ignores them, instead keeping his eyes out for the sounds of sirens and the sight of distress. 

Spotting a crowd, Wilbur zeroes in on it, instinctually latching to a nearby apartment building and landing on the roof half-gracefully. He creeps over the edge, crouched as he approaches. There’s a gathering of police cars, a count of three ambulances and two nearby fire trucks. A whole crowd of pedestrians and traffic has positioned themselves outside of a ring of orange barriers. The only thing Wilbur can’t locate is the problem.

He scans the street, looking beyond the crowd and studying the depths of the block. Wilbur gazes over the horizon, where the only thing to meet him was the beginning of a sunrise. Despite his yearn to watch the upbringing of the morning, he turns his gaze away to find his villain. 

A scream grows exponentially, echoing through the busy street and filtering through his mask. Wilbur whips his head over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he scans the skyline. He huffs as he’s left without eyes on the villain. 

About half-way to the edge of the rooftop in hopes of contacting the police down below, there’s a piercing screech from directly behind him. Wilbur startles, the noise making him wince and cringe hard enough, leaving him now falling over the edge of the rooftop and into open air, where his eyes widen at the realization of the descent. Reacting quickly, he shoots a web to the railing and latches on, jerking to a stop before letting the web retract and raise him back to the rooftop. Wilbur connects his fingertips and feet with the concrete wall, sticking to it effortlessly while he creeps up the side of the building. 

Through his awkward angle of the top of the ground, he spots a misplaced train car half-dug in the concrete, minute sparks still flying from the impact. Wilbur spots a round of people inside through the tinted windows. They’re jarred, no doubt, presumably both mildly and gravely injured. Only few still move about the confined spot, mostly with agitation and fear. He doesn't mind them for the time being, more focused on the culprit of the disturbance. 

Despite the size of Essempi and their neighboring towns, he didn't meet a lot of supervillains. Occasionally some with creative costumes, though they don't pose much threat—he had himself half-convinced that the serenity of the town was just the beginning of some in-progress-anti-hero organization. 

So, there weren't many villains who could make the technology to haul a train car onto a rooftop. 

His imagination doesn't have to run much longer, for the mechanical noises of XD’s robotic extra arms draws his attention to the side, where the approaching villain stares around the skies for him. Satisfied with his obscurity, Wilbur raises a little bit to get a better view of the scene.

Suddenly, there’s an irritating whir that toys with his eardrums. He looks back, a helicopter catching his line of vision. Fuck. Just as he notices it, the spotlight ticks on and lands directly on him.

Wilbur gasps, squints at the bright light. The space now illuminated around him and XD’s attention turned to him instantly. He ducks down, spinning around so his back is against the wall and facing out to the city. Wilbur finds the attention of the aircraft and makes a motion akin to slicing his neck, silently portraying that they’re doing more harm than good. 

Abruptly, part of the light is obscured from above him, thankfully shadowing the blinding light, although posing even more of a problem than potential blindness. Wilbur sighs, looking up to see XD’s carved mask—his old one—the cracked thing boring daggers into his own mask. 

“Spiderman! Y’know, I thought I hated the cops, they just weren't ever on my side, but look at this! They helped me find you,” XD says, chuckling and then offering a salute to the aircraft. Wilbur’s shoulders slump a little as he flips back over and climbs up to the rooftop, hopping over the railing to find footing on the concrete ground. From this view, he notices that XD’s figure isn't laced with thick armor and his grand mask, and he’s instead stood, black slacks and a neon hoodie with his old smiling mask slapped on his face. His hands are in his pocket, looking casual, almost lazy. 

“You look like you've seen better days,” Wilbur says. Why hasn’t XD made a move yet? 

Dream shrugs. “Didn't want to be too…noticeable.” 

Wilbur looks at the bright green hoodie he’s sporting and then at the train car of people. XD’s arms twitch. 

“You should reconsider,” Wilbur suggests. Within a moment, he flicks a web at XD’s mask to distract him enough before darting to the left of him and running after the train car to help the civilians. XD isn't showing much interest in fighting him, 

Immediately as he approaches the car, he gets halfway to wedging his fingers between the seal in the doors before there’s five metallic fingers wrapping his torso and pulling him through the air. It throws him, wind screaming in his ears around him and hissing in his ears as he begins his descent—over the open air, no building to catch him. The crowd beneath him gasps, loud enough to bring him back to reality. 

His hands find a familiar position and he has the quick reaction to latch two webs onto the railing again. He retracts in a second, back onto the railing, crouched with his hands on the cold bars.

XD still isn't moving. He’s everything but hostile, apart from launching him off the side of the building. The spotlight from the helicopters above whirs loudly, circling the two on the building. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wilbur asks finally, snapping XD’s attention to him.

“Okay—look, I should've really planned this out, and I don’t want to totally humiliate you…” XD trails off. Wilbur slips off the railing and onto the roof, standing up to await the villain’s plan. 

“It's kind of late for reconsidering the humiliation, didn't you just launch me off a building?” Wilbur points out.

“Shut up! I'm thinking,” XD insists. 

Wilbur sighs. He runs again, flicking yet another web at the train car. He jumps, the web retracting and he glides overhead the villain, who through the corner of his vision is still caught up picking web off his face. 

He lands on the roof of the train car with grace, considering his next move. Wilbur carefully climbs down to the back of the car, where he’s barely visible. Soothed at the fact, he offers a wave to the city-goers in the car. “I'll get you out,” Wilbur whispers, more of a reassurance to himself than anything.

Winding a quick punch and releasing it just as quick, the glass in the window cracks from his enhanced strength. The surrounding people inside the car step to the side on instinct as he punches again, the crack deepening. Through the reflection in the windows, (Any lighting in the car had been replaced by phone lights, making it incredibly difficult to see inside), he spots one of XD’s arms launching at him. Wilbur jumps, landing on the roof of the train car and wincing as he listens to glass break. 

“That car isn't for you to save, Spiderman,” XD says, coldly, his voice less casual and reminding him of their typical encounters. The arm launches for him again and Wilbur dashed out of the way, flicking a web across the building and dashing out of the way.

He darts out of the way for the third time, huffing out in impatience. “Oh, so you brought it up here for fun?” Wilbur asks, shooting a web at XD’s arm, effectively folding it against the villain’s back. 

He hisses out in victory, although the action is short lived because as he jumps from the railing, overtop of XD and going for another calculated web, the wind is knocked from his chest as he’s grabbed from the air and jerked to the side. Wilbur groans out in pain as he’s shoved to the concrete, which startles a shriek out of him. It’s then that he’s brought back to open air, dangling from the ground with an irritated scowl hidden underneath his mask. His shoulder stings from where it had slammed into the ground, but when he tries to soothe it with a rub, he finds his hands are pinned to his side. 

Wilbur glares at XD. 

“I’m going to put you down, and we’re going to talk.”

Wilbur knows obliging would be the best decision, leading him to tentatively nodding at the offer. As suggested, he’s lowered down, cautiously, the arm then retracting with a whir and laying on the ground beside XD’s form. 

“Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?” the villain asks, his real hands still in his pocket. Wilbur shrugs.

“In passing,” he says, “Why? I don't see anyone else hostage, do you know how the Trolley Problem works?” he muses, brows furrowing at XD’s response: something of a laugh. 

“You have two choices here, alright?” Suddenly, a screeching sound is scraping at his ears, two of XD’s arms wrapping the car and holding it up, right near the edge of the rooftop. “Save a train car full of people,” the villain continues, then reaches into his pocket. Wilbur squints as the villain pulls something small from the depths of his hoodie and holds it up, a string with something on the end of it dangling in the air. 

His heart sinks. Tommy.

“Or a pest. Your pest.”

Wilbur’s mouth falls agape, his shoulders slump, and his hands tense. Play it off, Play it off. He still has the time to embarrass XD and make him believe he has the wrong guy. Surely XD doesn’t—actually know his identity.

“I don’t see anything,” Wilbur says, his voice rushed and quivering.

“It's—It’s on the end of the string, look—there's some pest at the end of it.” XD clarifies, a smudge of humor in his tone. 

Wilbur lets the clarification run dry and finds himself bitterly glaring at XD. The villain hums, shakes the string a little. As he does, Wilbur watches Tommy flail at the end of it. His heart pounds in his chest, twisting at the thought of the poor borrower caught up in his work. He tried hard to keep Tommy out of it—he never even hinted at it. The idea that Tommy dangles in the grasp of Wilbur’s enemy without any hope that someone could save him makes Wilbur want to puke. 

A scream from the people in the train car snaps him out of his thoughts, adjusting him to his very real situation that he needs to find a solution to. He can save Tommy from a lethal fall, or save a cluster of people from an equally deadly height.

“Which one, Spiderman?” XD persists. 

Suddenly his lax clothing and old mask doesn't seem so lazy anymore, and Wilbur finds himself staring at the carved out smile with disbelief. 

“Did you wake up and decide to do this?” Wilbur asks. He’s wasting time. The hero watches as Tommy is drawn a little higher, and the likelihood of death increases massively. Meanwhile, Wilbur just stands there.

“I was bored. Wanted to test my theories about you, turns out…I was right,” XD hums. Wilbur knows that XD is clawing at the inside for a chance to blurt his name out and rip the bandaid off. Something in Wilbur has to hand it to the villain, though, because even with an audience of news reporters and cops and civilians, he still has held off. 

Okay. This cannot be hard. (Albeit reluctantly), He’s Spiderman. Wilbur can always do both. 

“I’ll take the train,” Wilbur decides, “leave the 'pest’,” he lies, easily. The words are like poison to his tongue, but he’s found an obvious route to take. 

“Okay. Okay! Well, what's your heroic plan without a little entertainment?” XD comments, then releases the car immediately, his silver arms retracting and glistening under the rising sun. Wilbur yells out, running near the edge of the building to go after the train, although before he can get the momentum to jump off, he notices that XD has dropped the rope holding Tommy. 

His eyes widen at the realization, he screams out a rushed “Tommy!” and quickly, he flings a web in the vicinity of the borrower, hopefully latching onto him before taking to the railing, finding his footing before jumping off of the building. 

Calm and calculated, trying to ignore the blood rushing in his ears and the way his head screams about his inevitable failure, he instantly retracts the web holding (what he hopes to be) Tommy, then lifts his mask up in a panic, getting a good grip on the clump of web before shoving the flash of white into his mouth and pulls the mask back down over his mouth. His mouth shuts with a click that blurs his thoughts of a plan. 

Briefly, he recognizes movement within his maw, and with the reassurance, Wilbur finds the time to finally focus on the train car, which plummets, although nothing too worrying yet, especially as he now has the opportunity to advance downwards, the wind lapping all around him. He’s done this a thousand times. 

Something clicks against his teeth, hitting from the inside. The wind in his ears and the adrenaline completely flooding him makes it hard to focus on the fact that he had hit bullseye on Tommy, and even more is he distracted at the fact that the poor thing is scared out of his life, in the clasp of someone he doesn't know he trusts. Trapped in their mouth no less. He runs a worried tongue over the figure in his mouth to try and resolve the boy’s fear. It was half-assed but all he could muster as a thousand ideas for saving the car floods through his mind and thoroughly bury the memory of Tommy.

A web shoots from his wrist and flies through the wind, whistling against it before coming to a halt when the edge of the web reaches something solid, the edge of a building, just a temporary brace until he can build another. He flicks another web, and another, and another, and he feels the energy leaving his body as Wilbur constructs a base for the car to land in. It’s already caught on the first one he did, but the weight of the metal and the people inside has the web splitting. 

By the time he finishes the landing pad, it’s mere feet from the streets, housing the fallen train car. Meanwhile, now no longer distracted, his blurry mind has the ability to shoot one last web onto a balcony near the scene. Wilbur jerks as the web pulls taught, something in his head shifting to panic, but he ignores it while letting the web retract and guide him up onto the balcony, which he clambers onto and falls over in an instant, something of this morning’s fatigue, his mix of emotions, and the overuse of his silk making him a useless pile of black-and-yellow fabric. 

(*)

Tommy is screaming. He knows he’s screaming, even though the noise is barely audible over the lapping sound of the helicopters that circle the area, which had irritated him enough into covering his ears, he still is screaming. The disturbance of the helicopter had been enough to distract him, and as he zones back in as Spiderman had yelled out something incoherent, and then weirdly, his own name. 

It was then that he finally felt the rush of cold air against his body, and it was then that he registered that he was falling, concrete growing closer and closer and closer, and—his abrupt fate was cut off by an equally abrupt something clashing into him and expanding, surrounding his entire body and jerking him through the air. His stomach sinks at all the movement. He struggles against the sticky web that he’s caught in, memories of getting caught up in spider web as a borrower flashing through his memory. If not for the fact that this situation was nothing similar, and that this was quite literally life or death, he might’ve found comfort in finding some resemblance of his home life.

Wilbur. 

Oh, Wilbur's going to get home and think Tommy abandoned him! Oh, oh fuck—

Suddenly, there's another pull in his gut and he’s screaming even louder as he falls, plummets, zips through the air. It whistles around him, his ears throb, and his hands are shaking so much he can barely even wipe the tears off of his face without it being consistent with hitting himself. There’s a thick groan that murmurs from his mouth as, despite the layer of web between him, he’s tossed against someone’s hand, whiplash settling in nicely with his jittering soul.

He barely recognizes the black and yellow fabric all around him before he’s catching his gaze on a distantly familiar bottom profile of a face, one that, terrifyingly, opens up and draws Tommy close. 

“No, no, nonononononoNO—” Tommy yells, a mouth suddenly his only surroundings. The morning light illuminates the space around him, rows of human teeth entirely surrounding him, fleshy pink walls and the faint outline of the opening of a throat just mere inches from him. 

“Shit! Let me out, fuck—HELP ME!” Tommy pleads, screaming, he can't even help but try to be hopeful in a time like this. He can’t even wrap his head around the fact that he thinks he'll be curled up in Wilbur's hands tonight if he asks. What is he, four? 

Tommy sobs. Tears break through, finally the adrenaline of the situation coming to a screeching halt as soon as the mouth he’s in shuts tight, the the jarring view of the city overhead coming to a close with an echoing click that replays in his mind a thousandfold. Tommy sobs again, shaking, his struggling within the cage-like web intensifying. He has a higher chance of avoiding becoming food if he can stand up and fight. 

Finally, finally, his legs can move more than a few inches. His legs are free, and he tears his arms free, picking the excess pieces off of him, baring his teeth as he strains his arm just to get free. He can barely fend off an inanimate spiderweb, he can only imagine the idea of fighting off a prodding tongue that’ll inch him slowly to the back of the throat that’ll send him to his real death. 

He pulls at the silky material, which has been soaked slightly as the person's saliva fills the room. It's at the moist sensation under his fingertips that he realizes how suffocatingly damp it is. Tommy pats at the surface underneath him, cringing, almost gagging at the fact that he’s sitting atop a tongue. He’s…he’s going to die, he’s sitting on his deathbed. 

He can barely maneuver himself to stand up without fucking falling. Tommy jerks a little bit, almost falling into the person's teeth at the movement. 

Finally stumbling to a stand with a scowl on his face, he tries to feel around for something solid. He seems to reach teeth, because his pounding fists collide with something hard. He punches at them, sobbing, a sudden weakness in his form overtaking him. 

“Let me out! Please! I—I can't die, not right now! I—I just—” Tommy finds himself stuttering over his words. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to die. There shouldn't be a problem if he simply ceased to exist, though the idea still tormented him. 

If he were to die, it at least shouldn't be at the hand of something Tommy had spent most of his life avoiding, and certainly not by something he had foolishly begun growing to trust. 

The feeling of something wet seeps into his clothing, prodding at him—and so caught up in his cries he takes an embarrassingly long time to recognize that there’s a tongue placed by his shoulder. Tommy shrieks as he does realize, scrambling away from the muscle the best he could, (which wasn’t easy, considering the thing took up most of the mouth). 

He swallows down a gulp of vomit, cringing at the fact that he’s even existing right now. Tommy draws a hand to his face, fisting his tears away. It doesn't matter in the end, as by the time he gets his face dry it's ruined by another orbit of tears. He still shakes, his hands propped in his lap while he leans against the closed rows of teeth, awaiting his inevitable fate. 

Just as expected, the world jerks, heavy, heavier than before, and suddenly he’s almost downed in a pool of saliva as he’s drawn back, back, and, NO—he claws aimlessly at the tongue, his efforts run useless while he’s shot down the throat in an instant. His hands fail to cling onto purchase and he slides, easily, too easily. He can't flex his limbs enough to flail, and even if he did the struggle would go unmatched against the pool of acids he’s about to meet. 

He falls, he screams as he falls. His gut churns at the fact that he’s landed in someplace new, equally as dark as a mouth but painfully obviously not. 

It’s hollow, nothing like the tunnel he just traveled down. It’s warm and suffocating, however, and he feels as if he couldn't breathe. Probably because his nose is stuffy and breathing in through his mouth triggered another fit of sobs. 

Tommy stretches his arms to feel his surroundings, coughing, then immediately sobbing again upon the feeling of fleshy walls that contort around him, flexing slightly. He’s going to die. He’s going to puke—he is dead. He falls against the surface he’s surrounded by, attempting to draw his knees up, though they slip into the thin pool at the bottom of the chamber, his chamber. 

The warm liquid soaks his shoes, and in half a second, he’s convinced himself that it stings, and that he’s going to die within the next five minutes. 

If only Wilbur were here. He would know how to calm him down, even if he was dying. If he was on his last breath and Wilbur was there to reassure him, he’d believe him. Full-heartedly. 

Tommy punches at the fleshy walls, yelling, despite how much strain it puts on his already-sore throat. “Fuck,” he whines, sliding against the walls and sighing.

He has a plan for everything. Wilbur, as a joke, locked him in a jar once, then proceeded to accidentally forget about him, and he inched off the counter until he fell and broke the jar. He was all cut up but he was out. So, why isn't his brain catching up to date with recent events and getting him a plan? 

Tommy knows why, but he doesn't exactly want to admit it just yet. 

His surroundings jerk, throwing him to the other end of the area before the walls squish in on him, embracing him from all angles and making him wail at the fact. His face is pressed against the slick flesh, the pool of saliva and, (what he tells himself is) acid, he sobs again. Again again, his body aches as he shakes with somber origins, again he cries again, Prime, why won't he stop crying? 

(*)

By the time Wilbur regained feeling in his head and it was no longer a sludge of mixed emotions about what just happened and reassurance that he had Tommy, and by the time Wilbur had picked himself up from where he lay on the cold concrete of a balcony and webbed away, he realized there was nothing in his mouth. 

But, he completely remembers the web with Tommy in it being secure in the makeshift pocket while he did his work, so why wasn't it there anymore?

Wilbur lands in the crowd, wincing as he catches the attention of news broadcasters. He’s about to web away to avoid public attention when something in his gut hits him so gently that he pauses, and his eyes widen. Wilbur pauses, freezes, then shudders.

Tommy. 

He runs off, immediately, into an alleyway where he leans against the wall and places a disbelieving hand to his gut. “Wh—Tommy?” Wilbur whispers, careful as to not catch the attention of the nearby reporters.

There’s a response. It’s faint, he can’t hear it—shit. At the very least, he’s alive—hopefully for the time it takes to get him out.

Okay, just…focus. He’s focused before—he has to be focused to unstick. But he’s never swallowed anyone before! Wilbur closes his eyes and pulls his attention to the moving figure in his gut, squeezing in his stomach and pretending like he’s trying to puke, (which probably wasn’t the best idea considering he does feel like he’s two webs away from vomiting his guts out). 

The attempt is disturbed by flashing cameras, which startle him to a defensive position and make him forget about his focus. He groans, staring at the news reporters that have taken to crowding around him, cornering him in the alley. 

“I’m gonna be real with you guys, I think there’s a lot more interesting things to film than me,” Wilbur says, huffing out a dry laugh.

“Why did you wait until the last second to save them?” A reporter asks. I was saving someone else, Wilbur muses in his mind, once again reminded of Tommy.

“Seriously, leave, I’m done with this scene, you should be too,” Wilbur tries. 

The reporters only grow closer, photo after photo after photo—it overwhelms him, to say the least, especially with the fact that his gut is being absolutely attacked by Tommy. It takes a lot for him to not curl up against the brick wall behind him and murmur reassurances to him. Flashes and questions blur in his mind, and thankfully his energy has seemed to return and he has half the mind to toss two fingers over his palm. A web sprouts, spiraling up onto the building above so he can get away from the crowd of people. 

Landing on the concrete, he sprints behind a doorway and kneels there, just in time for a particularly revolting punch from the inside of his gut that leaves him clutching his gut and gagging as something travels upwards in his gullet—finally. He gags again and feels something thrash in his mouth. Tommy, no doubt.

Without adrenaline rushing through him and numbing his thoughts, he notices there’s a distinct taste in his mouth. It’s tangy and unpleasant, mixed with the taste of salt—undoubtedly tears. He winces at it, making a move for the edge of his mask. Before he could pull it up and beg the trust he just thoroughly undid, the laps of a fucking helicopter catch his attention. Immediately, his hands drop from his face and he scrambles up, flipping them off tediously before running to the edge of the roof and jumping off, landing on the neighboring one. 

Wilbur takes a sharp left, his webs wrapping around a street light. Gracefully, he lands on it, looking around the sky for the aircraft. It seems to have lost sight of him. 

Gently, with his tongue, he pushes Tommy to the side of his mouth and rushes out reassurances while he glides through the city and back to his apartment building.

“You’re okay—I’m so sorry, Tommy. You’re okay, I promise you’re okay,” he says, it’s half-mumbled but it, hopefully, has gotten the point across. 

The little “fuck you!” from within his mouth says otherwise.

Finally, for what has felt like hours when in reality barely half an hour has passed, he finds footing on his fire escape. The security of being home feeling like a boulder off his shoulders. He opens his window, climbing in and shutting it with ease. 

Immediately, Wilbur lifts his mask up and spits Tommy out. The boy quivers against his skin, shaking and murmuring curses with his strained voice. Wilbur’s heart twists, guilt coursing through him even more than the adrenaline had earlier. He did this to Tommy.

“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, his voice soft. His hands find themselves frozen, unable to comprehend how much of a trance Tommy has been put under. “Tommy, hey, king, come on, you’re safe,” Wilbur says, taking a distracted seat on the floor. “Are you

okay? Are you hurt?” Wilbur adds, pulling the tiny a little closer to inspect his shivering form. 

He’s not sure if Tommy actually recognizes that he’s not in Wilbur’s mouth, or even gut. 

“Get the fuck away from me—” Tommy breathes out, his voice shallow and dry. He coughs, shuddering with another sob. Wilbur frowns, deep, watching intently as the borrower collects himself in his cupped hands, shuffling to sit up and glare at Wilbur.

(*)

“I didn’t mean to swallow you, I promise—I just—” Spiderman says, his own lies running dry on his tongue. Why is his voice so familiar? “Just tell me

you’re not hurt, man—”

Tommy doesn't respond to Spiderman and instead takes a look around the space, realizing very quickly that the space is identical to Wilbur’s apartment.

He hiccups, coughing as phlegm gets caught in his throat. “Why are we at Wilbur’s house?”

Something in Spiderman’s face, from what he can see of it, shifts, something of confusion tugging at his lips. Then, in a blink, he’s shifted onto one hand and Spiderman pulls the mask off fully, revealing—

Oh.

Oh.

“Wilbur,” Tommy breathes out, coughing again. His heartbeat picks up at the fact that Wilbur, out of the whole city, sat behind the mask. “You fucking swallowed me,” Wilbur almost flinches at the words, “and you lied to me.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, not intentionally.” Wilbur returns his hands to the cupped position, but Tommy doesn’t move. His eyes are glued on Wilbur. His hair, his worried eyes with tears swelling in them and fatigue lining them as dark bags, his frowning lips, and the black-and-yellow suit that clings onto his body.

“Fuck, Wilbur, you—I don’t even know—” Tommy says, groaning and leaning into Wilbur’s hold. It feels warm, similar to—-

“Are you mad at me?”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he scoffs. “What the fuck?! Of course—-of course I am, Wilbur! I thought I was going to die! I probably would’ve!”

Wilbur winces. Bastard.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispers.

Tommy looks at Wilbur strongly, and for some reason, the action alone is enough to make him sob again. He shudders, goosebumps trailing his spine. 

“No, no—Tommy, you’re okay, man!” Wilbur reassures—or he tries to, it doesn’t really work, because Tommy just ignores it. 

“I’m not!” he retaliates, sobbing into the human’s gloved hand.

“Toms, darling,” Wilbur tries gently, taking his thumb and oh-so-gently drawing it along Tommy’s tiny, red-and-puffy face, ridding of his tears in an instant. His heart hurts at the nickname and the show of affection. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” 

“I almost wasn’t,” Tommy seethes out. “I would’ve died from that fucking villain you were fighting, you could’ve chewed me to death, and I probably was going to disintegrate when you swallowed me! Fuck you, Wil.”

Wilbur’s expression shifts. “You didn’t die, though, you’re very alive. And, I told you, Tommy, I never wanted to swallow you. It just happened. I must’ve startled too hard and did it.” Tommy scowls. He shifts, his damp feet sliding on the slick fabric of Wilbur’s suit. He almost forgot he was covered in saliva and acid.

“That doesn’t make up for the fact that you did it, instinctually, or whatever. Your brain wanted to eat me, just admit it!”

Wilbur stays quiet.

“Put me down,” Tommy then asks, now growing impatient after the warmth that Wilbur’s hand had provided has since run cold and proved nothing comforting. Wilbur, the bastard, looks so hesitant to his request it makes him shudder. “Wilbur, put me the fuck down,” he repeats, stronger, masking his (dwindling) panic. 

Begrudgingly, looking as if he regrets every moment, the human obliges and lowers the boy onto the floor, close to the bed where Tommy’s nearest nook is. “Thank you,” Tommy offers smally. He doesn’t know if he expected Wilbur to let his hesitance overtake him, but he finds that he’s grateful for the fact that he’s no longer engulfed by Wilbur’s hands and has found a place on the floor, already making a rushing move to the shadows of the bed. 

Though, as he walks, he feels his limbs are tired and ache. He doesn’t understand why they do, however—he had only cried, a mental problem, and he had kept his struggle to a minimum (in terms of how he usually flails), so why did he feel such a strong desire to collapse?

Tommy feels tears swell up in his eyes again, soul tugging at him to break down again. He winces at such fragile sensitivity and strays from his path, pulling off to lean against the leg of the bed. He sighs against it, holding back the floodgates of his tears while trying to ignore that Wilbur is still sat on the floor. He blinks away his tears. Tommy’s throat burns from earlier, also now housing the sobs he’s shoving back down his vocal box. He’s not crying again, no fucking way.

“Are you sure you want to be alone, Toms?” Wilbur asks, still soft as ever. It’s hard to be mad at the bastard when he’s been nothing but reassuring. But he almost died because of Wilbur, three separate times in barely an hour. How could he not be pissed? Then again, he had bargained with himself that Wilbur could be the only one to ever talk him out of the fear of death. Ironic, his mind muses.

“Not really,” he says, coughing a bit. He blinks away another circle of tears. It doesn’t work, and the irritating sting in Tommy’s eyes just pushes him far over the edge and he cries again, drawing his knees up and crossing his arms over them while he stares off into the shadows. He can’t hear much, but not in a concerning way, he’s just spaced out long enough for the only constant in his mind being his shallow cries.

Perhaps as he’d expected, he’s drawn back to reality with a nudge on his side. He grumbles, looking over to find Wilbur’s hand next to him, fingers folded into each other except for his forefinger, which pokes at his side again. From under the bed, most of the man’s face is obscured, but he can see Wilbur’s lips, which sport a fine smile, nothing amused, only genuine.

“Do you want to rest? I think you could benefit from a break from this shitty morning,” Wilbur offers, “we can finish talking later,” he then adds, which the thought of reliving today, even in memories, makes him shiver, but falling asleep on Wilbur had been his one wish when in—there. 

Hesitant, he shuffles up from where he sat. At his movement, Wilbur’s hand opens up and lays flat against the hardwood floor, moments from Tommy.

A part of him does wonder if it’s a ruse, but a lot of him doesn't have the energy to give a fuck. At least, not for right now.

He climbs onto the hand, his own hands bracing Wilbur's fingertips so he doesn't lose his balance, and he finds a seat on the crease in Wilbur’s fingers that connect them to his palm. 

“I'm still actually mad at you,” Tommy says as Wilbur draws him out of the shadows and back into the air. 

“That's okay, sunshine,” the man reassures. Once again, he takes his thumb, the gloves digit rubbing over Tommy’s face, tugging up to dry the last of his tears. The boy grumbles at the touch, but his disapproval only makes Wilbur stifle a laugh. 

“I thought we were resting, dick.”

Wilbur hums, shuffling up from the floor while keeping Tommy steady in his hand. He walks to the bed, sitting on the edge. “And you're sure you’re not hurt?”

Tommy sighs at Wilbur. “I'm not, if I was I would’ve told you, I still trust you. Kind of. Bitch.”

He has such a way with words.

Wilbur just hums, carefully drawing the boy up to his mouth. Tommy scrambles back, pressing further into the hands under him. The panic is short lived, especially as Wilbur only pecks a kiss on the top of his head. 

“Stop that,” Tommy demands. Wilbur draws him back, slightly. At the distance between them, Tommy stumbles to a stand and walks the length of Wilbur's palm and stands on the edge of it, arms outstretched to pull Wilbur’s nose closer to him. He hugs it, or, the best he could. 

“Awe, Tommy,” Wilbur says, his tone high in adoration. Tommy pinches Wilbur’s skin, causing the human to retaliate his hand and drag the borrower with it before situating himself in bed. Tommy snickers, slipping off Wilbur's hand and onto his chest. He frowns at the placement and walks, along the Spiderman suit and latching onto Wilbur’s chin, using all the (lacking) strength in his arms to pull himself up Wilbur's face, stumbling only slightly while readjusting. Wilbur stays still, he can spot the man’s eyes on him, but otherwise he remains  absolutely frozen until the borrower plops down by the older’s nose and gets extra comfortable.

Only because he knows Wilbur wouldn't be able to move him without waking him up, and the human wouldn't dare. 

—-—

taglist: @da3dm, @i-am-beckyu, @local-squishmallow, @skullsnbruises, @krazycat49, @munchkin1156, @nobodywritingao3, @a-xyz-s // taglist request

#mw #brickfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #g/t #dsmp vore #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #moral obligation au

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Our little brother pt.1

Hey lovelies! So sorry for the long wait, I didn’t realize how busy my week would be, but I managed to finish the first part of my newest au!

I now realize how much I suck at writing little kids so I’m just gonna change Tommy’s age range to around 7-10 :’)

Without further ado here it is!

tw ~ dehumanization (calling a person ‘it’), squeezing, minor injury, fear of death, (technically) abandonment, unintentional fearplay

word count ~ 1.5k

Tommy couldn’t find them. His family is gone. They told him to stay, but they never came back. It’s been hours, his legs are tired and his body’s numb from the cold snowy air around him.

Large snowflakes fell around him while the ground became colder by the minute. It had to have been hours since they left him in the shadowed alleyway, telling him it wasn’t safe in the open. He had curled up in a crack on one of the brick buildings surrounding him and fell asleep with the help of his mum. By the time Tommy woke up, the sun had already set and his parents were missing.

All Tommy could do was stand in the open, calling out for them. Sure, they said to stay hidden till they got back, but they should’ve been back hours ago.

He could feel his tail shaking as he wrapped it around his leg, trying not to squeeze his leg and make it more numb than it was already. All he had to do was find his family and everything would be fine again, right?

A loud, miserable noise echoed through the alley, making Tommy jump before realizing that it had come from him. He tried calming down but he couldn’t and in an instant sobs tore their way up his throat. It wasn’t fair. Where were they? 

Tears fell freely from his eyes, only making his face colder from the wind blowing on his shivering body. Tommy tried to look around for the hundredth time, but he couldn’t see anything but blobs of light from the street lamp above. The tears blurred his vision until he couldn’t see his own hands in front of him.

All of a sudden, there was a loud slam and the ground started shaking harder than he was. Tommy could hear the thumping of something big getting louder, getting closer. He needed to move, hide, do anything, but he couldn’t. Tommy honestly didn’t know if he was frozen from fear or if the ice on the ground had finally frozen to his feet.

There was only one thing that could sound like that, a beast his parents told him about so many times. Earlier today he would have told you there was no such thing, but after he heard it the first time, thudding louder than his mum's panicked voice, he knew it was real.

That thudding was what stole his family away. Everything was okay until it started and everything was gone when it thudded away.

His legs felt like they would drop him any second, and he still couldn’t move an inch. 

Tommy wanted to close his eyes. Maybe if he couldn’t see it, then it wouldn’t see him? Still, he kept his sight sharp. If he let his guard down, who knew what would happen?

His head whipped around, eyes focused on a giant hand that grabbed the corner of the wall. He trembled harder. As if in slow motion, Tommy could see a huge head move out from behind the building's wall, its giant eyes scanning for something, scanning for him. It’s weirdly pink long hair moved with the cold wind. Maybe if he wasn’t about to die he would think it’s pretty.

Tommy could see the moment its eyes snapped to him.

Its large mouth opened slightly before it went back behind the building, leaving Tommy alone. This didn’t last long though. A few seconds later the pink-haired human came back, but this time it brought another one.

The new one stared at him and even though it wasn’t as intimidating as the first human, its gaze was still terrifying to be under.

Everything was silent and still except for Tommy’s rapid shaking, more from the fear than the cold now. 

Then the worst thing happened.

Tommy sneezed.

Time started again all at once. In a single moment, the gigantic brown haired beast stepped into the alleyway and began moving towards him.

Tommy tried to show off his sharp teeth and claws but it did nothing to slow it down.

The huge monster just came closer. His threat displays weren’t working. Tommy tried backing up, but his tail got in the way and he fell onto his back, but he didn’t waste a second and kept skittering across the concrete floor. The giant didn’t seem fazed as it kept walking towards him with its too big feet, staring at him with its too big eyes, talking at him in its too big voice. Tommy’s brain couldn’t think about anything, it was all too much. He couldn’t focus. Tommy didn’t see the giant's too big hand reaching out until it was too late.

For the first time in a while Tommy felt warmth as giant fingers wrapped around his small form. He fought the urge to lean into the touch. This was a beast. It’s gonna hurt him. He needs to fight. 

He tried kicking his legs and thrashing, but nothing was working, his body was trapped completely. So he did the only other thing he could think of. Tommy put his head down and bit the skin surrounding him as hard as he could.

All at once, his surroundings jolted and squeezed in on him more, leaving him without any air. He tried to scream but all he could manage was a small pained wheeze.

The giant above him yelled out in pain, but Tommy couldn’t cover his ears from the agonizingly loud noise. The other giant seemed shocked and moved closer to Tommy fast, grabbing him.

All Tommy accomplished while fighting with all of his strength was moving from one pair of hands to the next. It was hopeless. The giants were probably angry at him now, they’ll definitely hurt him bad.

The new grip Tommy was in was firmer, it wasn’t suffocating but he knew the giant could squeeze him even tighter than the other one. He stopped moving completely at the silent threat. 

The brown-haired giant was still being a baby about his bite. Good. At least he could hurt them enough to not seem so helpless. 

The brown-haired giant glared at him while holding his thumb, Tommy shrunk back at the gaze. Tommy thought this had to be it for him, he pushed his luck, but then the gaze softened. It tried to speak to him again, but Tommy still couldn’t understand a word. The pounding of his heart still occupied his ears. 

After what felt like ages, the two giants started moving, walking across the alleyway that would take Tommy hours to cross in seconds. They walked up to a giant door before pausing.

Inside the building, Tommy could hear more loud voices. Were they gonna show him to a whole bunch of humans? Were they gonna fight over who gets to keep him? It didn’t matter. Tommy wouldn’t be able to stop them if they did.

Suddenly the hand he was in started moving, his vision went dark as he was stuffed into the pocket of the giants hoodie. He saw the light outside briefly before both of the giant's hands blocked the two holes of the pocket, caging him in.

Without the fingers holding him in place, Tommy tried finding a hole or anything he could use the get away without going near those giant hands again. Tommy gave up after a few minutes of searching, not finding anything. 

He could feel the pocket sway as the giant began to walk again. Tommy was stuck and couldn’t do anything about it, so when he heard an even louder new voice and felt the vibrations of the giant speaking, he began to listen.

“Hey Techno! Wilbur! Are you both still going to dream’s place after exams are over? I heard the party’s gonna be awesome.”

“Yeah, spending the night after draining tests cramped in a room with a bunch of loud drunk college students sounds great, Quackity. "

Quackity stared unamused at Techno before looking at Wilbur.

“What about you wil? I bet you’ll be there right?”

“I’ll think about it. Oh and tell dream I said hi.”

The two started towards the elevator, pressing the button to go up. 

Tommy was left confused. Why didn’t the giants give him away to the other one? Maybe they wanted him all for themselves? Yeah, that had to be it.

The hands near him twitched as the giants walked into the small box in the wall and the whole thing started moving up. Tommy felt nauseous by the time the floor stopped moving and the doors opened again.

The humans walked to another door before pulling out a key to open it. Seriously, how many doors do humans need? 

Stepping inside and locking the door behind them, Tommy heard and felt the giant around him let out a sigh.

The hands started moving around him again, grabbing him and blinding Tommy with the lights in the new room. When his vision cleared, Tommy could see the two pairs of eyes on him once again. 

He tried squirming briefly before the pink-haired giant spoke.

“So, what do we do with it now?”

Tommy paled, freezing in place, waiting for the answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And there you go! Hope you enjoyed reading, I’ll try to get the next part out asap

eat a snack, drink some water and get good rest! :)

#mcyt g/t #dream smp g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #giant!techno #g!techno #giant!wilbur #g!wilbur #tiny!tommy #t!tommy #Our little brother au #This took longer than expected #Don’t worry this au isn’t gonna be too angsty

[ingo4you]

STARTING THE LIGHT |ch.3

Tw: soft, Description of corpses/Vomiting.....i Guess thats all.

,,I brought you here" He said excitedly. What does he really want from me?

,,why?" There was a hint of fear in my voice.

,,It's simple, I'm lonely and you're lonely too, so why not be friends? So neither of us will be alone!"

Rusty wheels turned in my mind before finally clicking into place.

,,how old Are you.....?"

,,im 12! And im a big man that fears nothing!" In his speech, he unconsciously brought me closer to his mouth. Those teeth. Those sharp teeth that could easily crush me. Tommy was still babbling, but I didn't notice, I was just focused on his teeth. So sharp.

,,you good big man?, You don't smell very well. oh! that reminds me I still have to fix your leg"

Tommy pulled me closer to his chest now, crawling deeper into temple.

Wait.......how? He. can smell? Feeling??? My head didn't mind, So i let it go. I can deal with this when I'm safe.

--------------------------------------------------

That human didn't sound too happy, I messed it all up again. I slowly crawled towards my nest with the human in my hands. I knew where to go, I've lived here for as long as I can remember. And I also follow the smell. I don't need to see when I can smell. I dont know how to describe it.

I put the human on the "table" and started looking for some old bandages.

,,So? We'll be friends......?" I asked hesitantly.

Wilbur was quiet. A golden snake emerged from Tommy's hair and looked in Wilbur's direction, and he hissed something. Tommy listened to him. He said the human/Wilbur was trying to escape. The snakes were also like eyes for Tommy. He couldn't see through, but they always told him what was going on or what something looked like, but not otherwise.

--------------------------------------------------

After Tommy turned around, Wilbur carefully got up and tried to run away. He reached the edge of the flat stone on which Tommy laid him. Shit. It was too high. Suddenly he hears a hiss. He turns that way and there's that golden snake hanging from Tommy's hair. He had the same color as Tommy's hair.

Tommy suddenly turned in Wilbur's direction. Shit.

,,where are you going? I thought you'd stay a while, a-at least until I fix your leg"

The snake has already disappeared. It was just me and Tommy. He sounded disappointed, and he looked it too. His ears were drooping and his shoulders slumped, he was holding some bandages in his hands.

As I was looking at him like that, I didn't notice the tail that was behind me. Out of nowhere, something spun around me and squeezed.

,,Stay"

He placed me back in front of him with the end of his tail. I still had the end of his tail wrapped around my waist. I shed a tear again. There were more of them. I couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into tears

,,p-please, just let me go o-or kill me already, please, s-stop playing with me like that"

,,what-? W-wait! Like I said, I don't want to hurt you, I just wanted a friend"

,,So you'll keep me as a pet?!"

,,no i dont! I promise!" Tommy wanted to cry, he hated being yelled at.

,,So leave alone please! I-i want to go back to my family!"

Tommy didn't answer, his mouth twisted and he began to whimper. He squeezed his tail a little harder around Wilbur. Wilbur felt a little bad, he was a child after all.

,,Tommy?"

Tommy wiped his tears over his handkerchief and adjusted his ears. He seemed to be listening, so Wilbur started.

,,Tommy im sorry i yelled at you but you have to understand that I can't stay here, I have a family who are probably worried about me now because I disappeared, so please let me go"

Tommy kept whining.

,,um- T-Tommy? can you put your head on the table?"

Tommy nods and rests his head on the table. Very reluctantly but determinedly, Wilbur steps closer. He doesn't go directly to his face but to his head. He leans against his head into a hug. Tommy's hair is so soft and fluffy. Wilbur would never want to interrupt this moment. Tommy's hand rests on Wilbur's back. Wilbur doesn't even notice as he is caught up in such a beautiful moment. His hair even smells nice. Like strawberries and vanilla yogurt.

______________________________________________________________

"Phil.....? Phil!" The sudden panic in his son's voice woke Phil up. "U-uhgh what's going on?"

"Wilbur's gone!" Phil finally fully woke up, he didn't understand what was going on. “W-what do you mean gone?!”

he looked around the camp but he didn't see his other son anywhere, Techno was right wilbur was gone.

"Where could he have gone? Do you think he went ahead?" Phil asked even though he knew it was stupid, Wilbur wouldn't just go anywhere by himself, especially not when they were on a trip together.

"No, I do not think so" Techno looked at the map.

"There's a temple or something nearby, maybe Wilbur went there if someone didn't kidnap him" He packed the last things, turned to Phil and waited for him to leave.

"What?! Techno stop saying such nonsense, who would kidnap him? And um- maybe he really did go to that temple..........Okay let's go" He said walking towards Techno.

After about half an hour they arrived in front of the temple. The temple was huge. The doors of it were gigantic, the whole temple looked gothic. Techno melted over the beauty, you don't see a temple like this often. It was unique. Meanwhile, Phil shuffled from place to place, wondering what could have happened to Wilbur.

"So let's go inside" Techno moved closer to the entrance, Phil went too, albeit a little more cautiously. something didn't seem right to him here.

They walked down the long corridor for about a few minutes. Phil noticed something on the ground. It was dark but you could still see quite a bit. They should have taken torches.

"Is that Wilbur's backpack.....?"

"yeah, looks like he was there"

"yeah"

We continued down the corridor. The waning sun shone on our way through the broken ceiling. But the light was slowly fading. I think the temple is partly set in the rock.

"Can you hear that too?" Techno stopped and listened.

"hear what?" I listened too. I didn't hear anything for a while but then I did. It was some shuffling. It wasn't footsteps, it sounded more like something sliding across the ground.

"What do you think it is?" I whispered.

"I don't know and I don't want to find out, we're going there" Techno whispered and quietly made his way to one of the side corridors. It was closer. The sound was getting closer. I think it already know about us.

It was darker. I ran into something. It was Techno.

"sorry mate, but....why you stop?" I whispered.

Techno just turned to me and covered my mouth with his hand. And with his other hand he signaled for me to be quiet.

I nodded and waited. There were sounds in front of us. It sounded like tearing fabric.....or flesh.

I'm afraid what happened to Wilbur. The sounds stopped, and now the footsteps were different from the previous ones. These were already 100% steps. Fortunately, the sounds were receding. After the noises stopped, we waited for a while and then went to the front part of the corridor. We appeared in a small, circular and rather devastated room. A strong stench of the unwelcome hit our noses. I looked to the left of the entrance, and there he saw two corpses rolling in their own blood. One had her stomach ripped open and all her entrails gone, the other had her head crushed And the arms and legs broken in an unnatural shape, the entrails were also gone. I almost threw up, Techno was probably the same, but when I turned to look away on the other side there was more of them. They were all variously deformed and inhumanly mutilated. I couldn't take it and threw up. We hadn't eaten anything the night before, so the stomach acid was burning in my esophagus. It hurt like hell.

Techno supported me and we both left the room. We walked slowly through another corridor, there was more light here than in the previous ones, we are probably in the front part again. Techno sat me down with one pillar on the other side, and took water and a piece of bread from his backpack and offered them to me. I accepted and ate. I probably forgot to mention but.....those "hallways" were actually rooms....I guess...it was that huge.

--------------------------------------------------

Have a cookies :3 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Tag list: @andy3110

#Startingthelight! AU #naga!tommy #giant!tommy #tiny!wilbur #medusa!tommy #dsmp g/t #dsmp au #dream smp g/t #Human!Wilbur

[sheena-yuet]

Recently, I can’t stop reading stories about g!wilbur and t!tommy. I just obsessed with their chemistry ahaha uwu

Like the big bro energy, should protect smol bro-!

Just two boiz enjoying their moments <3

#giant/tiny #g/t #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #giant and tiny #giant tiny #dsmp g/t #g/t art #gt #g/t community #dream smp #g/t drawing #giant!wilbur #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #t!tommy

[crystalsblogcorner]

Decided to draw Roveger ranboo from Dice’s by nature AU, I tried to stick with the overall anatomy but it didn’t turn out as planned, but I hope you all still like it! And if you haven’t read Dices by nature au, you rlly should because it has a great plot and storyline ad it’s really well written. I’m head to bed now GN!

By Nature AU: by x-Pair-O-Dice-x

#dream smp #g/t #mcyt #mcyt g/t #crystal drawings #by nature AU by x-Pair-O-Dice-x

[melissart-s]

A spooky art I did for my fic: Broken bond! Go check it out on AO3!

#dream smp #dsmp fic #dsmp #mcyt g/t #fanart #monochrome #dream smp fic #ao3 #g/t #dsmp g/t

[melissa-s23]

Well, we've reached the end.

The final chapter of my fic, Broken Bond: Something that we'll try to repair, will post its final chapter tomorrow.

After 2 years, 5 months and nearly 100k words, this baby of mine will finally leave its nest and fly high for the rest of the world to appreciate in its entirety.

Thank you everyone who supported me through this. Your comments and feedbacks matter more than you'll ever know.

#dream smp #dream smp fic #mcyt g/t #ramble of a smol goblin

[box-of-dreams]

~Oh, my darling Crow~.

#dream smp #animation #g/t #philza #momza #size difference

[mysterious-gizem]

Sacrificed

———

This was a prompt given by my friend @sheena-yuet

I hope you enjoy!

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Dark brown hazy eyes scanned the organized room filled treasures worth so much gold, His eyes landed on a mesmerizing purple gem, which was placed on a pedestal. He crept up to the pedestal with a focused gaze, He pulled out a counterfeit gem to switch. The brunette steadied his posture and swiped the gem, and instantly switched it.

A grin grew on his face as he examined the the purple gem, Watching it shimmer in the faint light of the room. "George we need to go." A voice came from across the room, The male turned around facing his partner whom was holding a bag filled with gold.

"Yea-" George agreed as he tucked away the purple gem carefully, Both men snuck into the vents once more. Leaving the vault.

———

George took deep breaths of air as they were now far from the place they had been before, The two males giggled as they set up a small camp to stay for the night.

"That was sooo easy!" A ravenette boasted as he sat beside the fire they set up, "Pfft- Yea." George giggled along while reaching out at a basket with raw fish. "We have..." George started meddling in the basket, "Salmon or Cod?" George asked, turning his head to look at the other male.

The ravenette contemplated for a few seconds until deciding, "Eh I'll take Salmon." Sapnap said as he nipped at his bottom lip. George took out two Salmon's and started cooking it above the fire.

After a still yet calming silence Sapnap started speaking which made the brunette lightly jump at the sudden noise. "I heard there's this place called Las Nevadas." George's interests perked as each word flew out of Sapnap's mouth, "They have tons of casino's so I bet we can snag a pretty penny from them." Sapnap giggled.

"Let's head there tomorrow to check things out." George suggested grabbing the cooked fish, Handing one of them over to Sapnap. "Yea sure." Sapnap simply agreed while munching on his food. Both males finished the night by trampling over their fire, Sapnap stretched his arms over his head and bent down to snuggle himself in his sleeping bag.

———

When Sapnap's eyes fluttered open seeing the dim lighting of the sky. He groggily sat up staring at the calm sky—It was probably around 5 AM—He watched the brunette shuffle in his own sleeping bag. He sighed as he started packing up.

A while later the brunette sluggishly woke up, Sapnap gestured for George to fix up and get ready to leave. Whilst whining George slowly moved to collect his own items. Once all of their items were collected the sun was starting to unveil itself from the horizons.

The two males swung their leather satchels to their backs and continued to head into a specific direction Sapnap pointed to, The gusty wind hitting their faces. Sapnap's bandana flailed around like a fish out of water.

While George's hair danced around his head covering his eye view every once in a while, The wind increased as it howled. George sputtered as a fly entered his mouth before Sapnap let out a heavy laugh, Whilst the brunette glared at him.

"Shut up." George said while rolling his eyes, Sapnap swiped away a tear in his eye. Their hair continued to sway against the wind as they continued to traverse across the lands leading to Las Nevadas.

Even as the wind slowed down a bit, It still made their hair bounce around softly. Both males eyes stung as the sand flew into their eyes, Tears pricked on the ravenette's and brunettes eyes from the desert sand.

A sigh of relief was let out after the wind died down. George blinked a few times as red puffy eyes looked around, They made their way to the giant casino infront of them. The intimidating modern building standing tall and proud, Both theives focused their gazes on the empty yet clean pathways of the land.

"Hmm..." A voice rang in their ears as they whipped their heads around being met with a short duck hybrid wearing a white collard shirt with suspenders and black pants, Sapnao noticed the small golden wings rested on the side. Although George noticed the blue beanie on the males head and all the gold and silver jewelry he was wearing.

"Who are you?" Sapnap asked fixing his posture, "Shouldn't I be asking that?" The duck hybrid spoke, "I mean-...You guys are the one stepping on my lands." He stated putting one of his arms on his waist.

Sapnap opened his mouth to respond, But George spoke first before he could muster a word. "We're traveller's and we heard about this place." The brunette explained to the short ravenette.

He recieved a hum in response as the man's eyes scanned the two of them with a questionable gaze, "Hmm...If that's so then how about I give you guys a tour?" The duck hybrid proposed with an ear to ear grin.

"Sure-" George and Sapnap spoke in unison, "Great!" The shorter exclaimed. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Quackity from Las Nevadas." The man now known as 'Quackity' greeted in a formal manner.

"Let's begin the tour!"

———

After what felt like hours, Quackity offered for them to stay for the night in one of the buildings there. "Finally, I thought that guy would never stop blabbering." George groaned flopping down on the soft bed, "Atleast we now know where he keeps all his precious items." Sapnap snickered while kicking off his shoes. "I'll do a background check tomorrow and we'll take his stuff at midnight."

George nodded as he dozed off to sleep.

———

Midnight eventually came and they were standing on the roof of the casino where a vent layed beside them, George kneeled down and started to unscrew the vent. It popped off as it was moved to the side.

George held his head over the vents scanning around for possibly any rodents, In the clear George leaped down making a loud thud as his feet slammed against the metal. He went in a crawling position and crawled deeper into the vent, Soon he heard another loud thump against the metal vents, The brunette assumed it was his ravenette companion as he continued to make his way around the ventilation system. After passing multiple vents leading into different places he abruptly stopped infront of a specific vent.

He once again unscrewed the vent once again and was instantly met with the glimmering and shimmering of gold and gemstones. He snickered as he swiftly hopped down landing on his legs, He hungrily looked at the treasure before him as if he would consume them.

With quiet steps he went closer to the pile if gold coins and started stashing his bag. He heard a soft grunt hearing the familiar footsteps of the ravenette, "I'll get the diamonds." Sapnap spoke as he went over to a decently sized box filled with diamonds in different shapes and sizes.

George stared at the accumulated amount of gold he had in his satchel, Yet with the pure joy rushing in his veins another feeling aroused as if...

Something was off...

George has seen one to many gold peices to know what they would look like, He picked up one of the gold nuggets and scanned it. He let out a light gasp at the realization, Everything was wrong...

The color was too yellow...

It's texture did not feel normal...

It was fairly weighted different especially for the size was close to the size of his palm...

This is not gold.

George turned his head to warm Sapnap something wasn't right, But when he turned around Sapnap was gone and he was alone in the white colored vault.

He suddenly felt something sharp prick his neck, His panicked gaze looked at his neck.

A dart...

His vision went blurry, in a matter of seconds as he fell unconscious on the ground with a thud.

———

Clink...

"Huh?'

Clunk...

'Wha-'

Clink...

———

George's eyes shot open as he woke up. His wide eyes looked around seeing multiple guards in their uniforms, Another guard was holding Sapnap who was starting to wake up aswell. George snapped his head to the side when he heard a chuckle echo eerie dark room.

Sapnap looked at the dark silhouette, Emerging from the dark corner.

"Well look what we have here~" Quackity grinned as he tilted his head to the side. "Where the hell are we!?" George screamed struggling against the guards grip on him, "You are in no place to speak." The shorter growled.

"If I recall correctly, You two theives we're the ones pricking and prodding around." Quackity said in a taunting voice. Both males looked at him with hatred in their eyes, Yet he wasn't wrong.

"Sir, Should we bring them into the dungeon." The gruff voice of the guard asked. George's faced flushed with worry as his gaze flickered from Sapnap to the duck hybrid.

He watched as the duck hybrid looked at them. Suddenly Quackity had an idea as a smirk formed on his face, Sapnap and George looked at eachother with agitated eyes.

"Bring them to the beast."

Those words rang in both males ears repeatedly, They snapped back into reality when they we're yanked away leading them to a long hallway, The mossy stone walls and the concrete floor made George tense at how it looked.

Sapnap however kept a stern gaze watching the path they were taking occasionally scanning the guards, They turned a corner seeing a tall wooden door at the end of the hallway. The guards pulled open the door and shoved both of the theives in.

The guards chuckled before they slammed the door close, George winced at the sound and they were left alone in a gigantic room with dirty stone walls and cobwebs and bugs all around. "George-" Sapnap said kneeling and pulling George into a hug "We'll be fine don't worry." The ravenette spoke in a reassuring tone. George screwed his eyes shut as he cried against Sapnap's shirt. A choked sob escaped George's lips. Sapnap rubbed circles on George's back as he hummed a soothing tune to calm him down.

Terrified eyes gazed above...

A growl made both their heads snap into the darker side of the room. They heard a shuffle, Then a thump, They heard ragged breath from above.

A green gaze met their's, Both males let out a shriek as they stood up and backed away. The figure went closer lowering down to meet them. Their eyes widened as they realized what the silhouette was.

A giant...

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

I did not proofread, so if I made any mistakes, tell me <3

#g/t #giant!dream #dream smp #g!dream #giant/tiny #gt #writing #dreamsmp #dreamwastaken #T!Quackity #Tiny!Quackity #tiny!georgenotfound #T!George #tiny!sapnap #t!sapnap #mcyt gt

[owlwithatypewriter]

Flower Bud 🌻

AO3 Link

Warnings: Minor injuries, fae-adoption (aka kidnapping), possessive Wilbur Soot

"You look like a wrong'un."

It probably wasn't the best thing to say, considering the look that was returned, but Tommy didn't care - he didn't have the time or patience for manners, not in the middle of the forest, not when he was reeling with a concussion and cradling his broken fingers to his chest. He glared right back at the brunette beanpole, widening his stance so the soft spring breeze wouldn't topple him.

"Pardon," the beanpole said, chocolate-gold eyes wide in surprise, "I'm a what?"

"A wroh-ung-un," Tommy emphasized the word, giving it an additional syllable to make his point. He really was - looking the man up and down, he could see that his clothes, though appearing to be common (a trench coat in summer, really?) were made of high-quality silks and leathers, and his oddly-large ears hung with silver and gold chains that dangled priceless gems. Something stirred in the back of his mind, something about jewels and unknown people in the forest, but it was quickly squashed by the ache in his skull.

The man tilted his head to the side, earrings jingling like wind chimes as he looked Tommy up and down. His mouth quirked, as though he found the boy's rumpled appearance amusing, and his shoulders relaxed. Folding his arms behind his back, he asked, "And what must one do to be a 'wrong one'?" The phrase fell oddly from his lips, as though he was tasting it as he spoke.

Something - probably self-preservation, or basic street smarts - told Tommy not to answer, to turn around and walk away, but he'd never been one for thinking twice in a situation. "Y'know," he said, waving his unbroken hand about, "like, wrong stuff. Luring kids with candy. Vandalizing public parks. Kidnapping innocent children. Being a - a wrong'un ."

The man - Beanpole, Tommy decided, since despite his posh mannerism he had yet to introduce himself - Beanpole blinked, and there was something amused in his gaze now. "Well, I can assure you, I haven't been luring any children about with candy, or vandalizing any public parks. I don't believe I am one of those 'wrong-ones' you are looking for."

Tommy snorted. "You don't look for wrong'uns, they just find you." He huffed.

"Hmm." Beanpole tapped his chin, looking Tommy up and down as he considered his words of wisdom. "Well, I am not a wrong'un," he stumbled a bit at smooshing the words together the way Tommy had, "and you don't seem to be one either-"

"O'course I ain't!"

"-so, may I have your name?"

A voice screamed in Tommy's head, telling him no-no-no-no-no, blasting past the building migraine. He wavered a bit on his feet, and Beanpole tilted his head but didn't move to touch him. More thoughts crowded his mind, trying to push past the ache, screaming about the significance of pointed ears and mushrooms in fields, but he battered them back.

"Nah." He said, shaking his head (and immediately regretting it). "I don't give my name to randos in the woods." A quick glance around showed they were standing in a clearing, a small babbling brook nearby, and a hawthorn tree twisting behind Beanpole. It was a nice spot - he couldn't remember ever having been here before, despite years exploring the forest while dodging his chores. Beanpole opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off. "What're you doing here anyway? Kind of a weird place for a noble to hang out, innit?"

"A noble?" Beanpole shoved his hands in his coat pocket, rocking back on his heels a bit. Tommy risked a glance down and took note of the fancy and oddly-clean leather boots he was wearing. "What makes you say that?"

The teen snorted. "Nobody dresses like that," he gestured to all of Beanpole with his unbroken hand, "in the woods unless they have money to burn." He took another look around, trying to spot a horse grazing in the surrounding trees, but there was nothing more than a curious squirrel rummaging through the flowers curling around the base of the hawthorn.

There were a lot of flowers, actually, of all kinds, in all colors - some that Tommy had never seen before. They overtook the tall grass, heavy heads bobbing in the gentle breeze. Alliums, tulips, wild roses, lavender, asters, Queen Anne's lace, oxeyes - even some water lilies bobbing near the edge of the brook, and a cluster of sunflowers taller than either of them near a break in the trees, large disc florets reaching towards the sun as it lingered overhead.

"Wait, is this…?" Tommy glanced at his feet and saw a few clutches of mushrooms hiding beneath the grass, sparkling oddly in the sun. His head snapped up and he stared at Beanpole, who looked smug. "Holy shit, are you a fairy trapper?"

Smug was exchanged for shock. "A what?" Beanpole sputtered, eyes wide in disbelief.

"A fairy trapper - y'know, those stupid bastards who go around planting flowers in forests and trying to trick fairies out of their name!" Tommy snorted, kicking at a daisy sprouting by his feet. "Damn, you must have wasted a ton of Magi-grow to get these so big. Fuckin' rich folk…"

Beanpole still looked slightly baffled, but he brought his wits back enough to ask, "Why would anybody think they could trap a fae with flowers?"

"It's what the fuckers like, innit?" Tommy shuffled back a step, nearly knocking over a large toadstool. "They live in 'em and shit."

"Live in - how would a fae fit inside a flower?" Beanpole sounded torn between amusement and exasperation.

"They're tiny, ain't they?" Tommy held up his hand and stretched his thumb and pointer finger apart, showing off a length of about six inches.

"Faeries are, but fae aren't, and a trapper would never find a faerie in the overhill." Beanpole was staring at him as though he had said something incredibly stupid.

"They're the same thing, aren't they? Faeries and fae?" That little niggling in the back of his mind was getting louder, whispering frantically about the mushrooms in the field and how they were planted.

"No, not at all." Beanpole sighed and leaned back against the hawthorn tree, running a hand through his dark curls. He looked oddly exasperated at being questioned on this knowledge. "Faeries are, basically, baby fae. When a faerie reaches maturity, they are considered a true fae."

"Maturity?" Tommy quoted, ignoring the mushrooms at his feet.

Beanpole crossed his arms over his chest as he rolled an answer around in his mind, finger of his left hand tapping against the elbow of his right. "Yes. I believe it would be around…a hundred and eighty years to a mortal, give or take a decade or two."

"Holy shit."

The man snorted as Tommy gaped at him. "Yes, that must seem like a long time to you," he hummed in thought. "How old are you anyway? You don't look to be more than a child."

"Oie, dickhead! I'll have you know I'm a man!"

Beanpole doesn't look convinced. "How old?"

Tommy puffed out his chest as best he could. "I'm fifteen, practically an adult already!"

"Aw!" Beanpole pushed off the tree and beamed at Tommy, taking a step closer and stooping a bit so they were at eye-level. "You're just a kid! A little child. An itty-bitty baby man!" He jeered, bright amusement in his odd eyes.

If his hands were in tip-top condition (and his head wasn't swimming like a fish caught in a whirlpool), Tommy would have lashed out, maybe land a not-quite-serious punch on the man's shoulder in rebuke of his words. Instead, he just took another step back, lips pulled back in a snarl, the familiar rebuke on his tongue. "I'm not a fuckin' child!" He sniffed, tilting his chin up haughtily. "Besides, you're wrong. Baby faeries are called changelings."

Beanpole snorted. "No, they're not." He corrected, though there was amusement coloring his tone. "Changelings are an entirely different thing. The Aos Sí in the northern isles are the only ones near here who use them."

Tommy tilted his head in confusion. "The Is-She?" He copied. "Is she what?" He took a large step forward, past the mushroom clusters, shoving a finger in his face. "You better not be disrespecting women! I'll have you know my many, many wives-"

Beanpole didn't let him finish - he grabbed Tommy's wrist, long, thin fingers wrapping tightly around bruised skin, and tugged him closer. Unsteady on his feet, the boy pitched forward, stumbling against the taller man's chest. He yelped, pain shooting through his broken hand as it was squished between them. Beanpole didn't let up his grip at the sound of pain - instead he wrapped an arm around Tommy's back, forcing him to stand flush with the older man.

"You're not nearly as smart as you make yourself seem, hmm?" The man's voice was taunting, something sharp in it that unsettled Tommy's mind, shaking loose those squashed thoughts from earlier. Mushrooms…pointed ears…unknown forest clearings… "Such a big voice for such a little boy - you're no more than a babe, really." A hand carded through his golden curls, pausing at the crusted blood from where the guard had landed a hit with the butt of her axe. Tommy pressed back against Beanpole's arm, tilting his head back so he could see his face.

The man was looking down at him, but that wasn't right - he wasn't a man. His ears were long and pointed at the tips, dripping with gems and jewels that sparkled with something beyond sunlight. His eyes were a swirling miasma of brown and gold, flecks of otherworldly knowledge embedded deep in the iris. He was smiling widely - too widely, and his teeth were just on the other side of sharp to be human. And there was something in his gaze - something wanting. Something needing. Something dangerous and at the same time soft, sharp but compassionate.

Fairies are territorial, he could hear his teacher reminding them as they sat on wooden benches in the small one-room schoolhouse, you must never allow yourself to get near one. If you happen upon one in the woods, be polite and leave as soon as possible. Never insult a fae. Never question them. They are easily offended and will whisk you away to be their slaves for eternity, if given the chance.

"I-" Tommy croaked, and the fae tilted his head, watching intently as Tommy tried to speak. "I don't know how to clean." He blurted out.

The fae blinked, smile dropping a bit. "What?"

"I'm shit at dusting and - and stuff. Cooking. Burned a salad once." He had - it'd been hilarious in hindsight, but the matron hadn't been pleased. "I'd make a shit slave."

"A slave?" The fae had lost his suave, darkly-mysterious aire and was now staring at Tommy as though he was talking nonsense. "What in the world are you on about?"

"That's what you folk do, innit?" Tommy pressed back against the arm again, but the fae didn't give, keeping him hugged close to his chest. "Y'know, steal humans to be slaves?"

The fae shook his head, expression softening. "Oh - oh no, we don't do that! Not anymore at least," he tacked on in a mutter, then cleared his throat. "Any humans that come to the courts are more like…indentured servants."

"En-den-tur-ed? You take their teeth?!" Tommy didn't know if that was better or worse than just being a slave.

"No!" Beanpole wrinkled his nose at the idea. "No, they work as servants for the court until the magic has embraced them, then they're welcomed into the court as proper fae." He shook his head, pulling Tommy a little closer in a hug. "Honestly, what are they teaching you humans these days?"

Tommy wasn't comforted by the explanation. "So you're gonna indenture me?" He asked cautiously. His teacher had once told them that in order for a fairy - or fae, as Beanpole insisted - to get power over a human, a few different things had to happen. They either needed to know the human's true name, the human had to step into the fairy ring the fae appeared in, or the human had to insult the fae badly enough that the laws of magic required recompense. Tommy knew he hadn't given the fae his name, but he certainly hadn't been holding his tongue while they spoke, and the mushrooms his mushy mind had taken note of earlier had been in a near-circular pattern. He was fairly certain he'd stepped on a few while arguing with the fae.

Beanpole hummed, his hand going back to running through Tommy's curls. "No," he said after a moment, "I don't believe so."

An uncertain hope grew in Tommy's chest. "You're gonna let me go?"

"Oh no," the fae chuckled, and that dark, sharp edge was back. "You're much too precious. I think you would make a perfect faerie."

The hope was snuffed out, replaced with confusion. "You - you said faeries were baby fae," he said. "Hate to tell you king, but I've already grown up."

"That may make the change take longer," the fae sighed, "but I'll be with you every step of the way."

"The change?" Tommy pushed against Beanpole's chest with his good hand and tried to shuffle back, but something was wrapped around his feet. He couldn't look down to see what it was, but when he moved, it tightened.

"Yes." Beanpole finally released him, taking a step back so he could rest his hands on Tommy's shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. "Fae aren't born, sunshine. They're made."

Whatever was holding his legs in place had begun to snake up his legs to his back. Tommy glanced down and felt his heart stop at the sight of thick, green vines winding themselves around him, holding him fast. "W-wait, no," he snapped his gaze back to Beanpole, "I don't want this!"

The fae's expression grew soft, and he reached up to cup Tommy's cheeks, paying no attention to the vines snaking their way up his chest, pinning his arms to his sides and chest. "I know it's scary," his voice had grown quiet and it wrapped around Tommy like a blanket of silk. "You'll be alright, I promise. You'll grow up in the Meadow, cherished and treasured as you should be, with all the other little faeries."

In his memory, Tommy would blame his concussion (he did have one, Wilbur would confirm decades later) for the way he leaned forward into Beanpole's palms, for the soft warmth that squeezed his heart at the thought of being cherished , of being wanted . He would blame it for the moment of calm, for the way the gentle magic Beanpole imbued in his voice overtook him, slowing his heart.

The vines curled around his neck, and now there were leaves, sprouting from the greenery, wrapping him up like a cocoon. Beanpole slowly pulled his hands back, grinning when Tommy leaned forward after them. "And then when you're all grown, you'll join me in the court as a prince, with our father and brother."

The panic returned as the fae and his magic stepped back, but before Tommy could open his mouth and insist this was wrong, yell again that he didn't want this, leaves snapped shut over his head, plunging him in darkness. A sweet scent filled the space - he yanked his head back, trying to catch a breath of fresh air, but his head was swimming more than ever. The scent grew stronger, choking him, and then there was nothing but darkness and quiet.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The changing didn't take as long as Wilbur expected, considering the child's feisty attitude. It always took longer when the human was more resistant to the idea. He hummed to himself as the cocoon solidified, slowly turning gold as it drank his magic and began the change. In only a few minutes it began to tremble, before twirling like a tornado and pulling in on itself, shrinking down to a small seed. The fae prince scooped it up and examined it closely, before turning and stepping through the trunk of the Hawthorne. The fairy tree rippled as it carried him through the barrier between Realms, allowing him to step out on the edge of the Meadow.

It was early morning in the Forest, and the young faeries were already flitting about, chasing each other about the blooming flowers or bothering the caretakers for breakfast. He spotted Puffy and Foolish on the other side of the field, chatting quietly as they set down platters of fresh fruits and decanters of nectar for the babies to eat. The latter spotted him and gave a wave, and Wilbur gave a short wave back before wading into the knee-high field and searching for a spot of clear ground.

After a moment of search he spied a spot between a pink tulip and a deep violet allium. Kneeling in the dirt, he carefully dug a small hole and dropped in the seed before carefully covering it with the displaced dirt. A careful drop of his magic soaked the mound, and after only a moment a curl of green appeared. It quickly grew, a long stem shooting up to nearly Wilbur's height, a large bud rapidly grew along the top. The fae jumped to his feet eagerly, watching as the green cover peeled back to reveal bright yellow petals. Wilbur watched expectantly as they fell open, revealing a large sunflower, a small shape curled up on the seeded center. With gentle movements, Wilbur scooped the faerie into his hands.

The boy was still a mess of lanky limbs and blonde curls, but his wounds had been healed, and his clothes were now clean (though his shoes were gone - for some reason, they never survived the change). There was a lump of thinly-furred skin against his back, still wet with fresh magic from the cocoon. Gently, Wilbur stretched out one of the wings, taking in the white crescent-moon shapes and the red highlights among the gray fuzz. A moth, then - Techno could probably tell him exactly what kind, but for now Wilbur was satisfied just seeing his new brother's wings grown and intact. Out of curiosity, he shifted the child to rest in the palm of one hand, and with his other stretched out his thumb and pointer finger.

He'd been right - faeries were no larger than the space between.

Grinning, Wilbur pressed the child to his chest and moved to the edge of the meadow, avoiding Puffy's knowing grin. He settled beneath a tree, leaning against the bark, and hummed to the sleeping boy. It would take a few hours for him to wake, and more for his wings to properly dry. Then he'd be ready to learn how to fly, how to use his magic, how to grow and laugh and enjoy life as all children should. He'd know nothing but love now, and would never stumble about in the woods bleeding and stinking of fear again. He'd be cherished, not only by Wilbur and the caretakers, but by all the fae.

Wilbur had found himself a little bit of sunshine, and he was never letting it go.

Wilbur Soot you are a nightmare to write when I'm tired.

I hope you enjoyed! Had this idea for a while, thought it would make a good little one-shot. I do have a few more ideas for this AU, so if you'd be interested in seeing more, please let me know in a comment!

#dreamsmp #dream smp #mcyt #mcyt g/t #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dark #kidnapping #minor injuries #fae AU #fantasy AU #one-shot #giant/tiny #g/t #g/t writing

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Story idea! Which will contain tiny!tubbo tiny!baby michael and giant!ranboo

Tubbo lives alone in the tundra lands of snowchester with his son Michael, tubbo is known for studying and hunting mythical creatures, but after a harsh snowstorm and lack of food he ventures out one night and ends up meeting one of the mythical creatures he has been desperately searching for.

Noms are up to you, btw

yay no more creative slump! thanks anon :D

i kinda switched this around s little bit but i think it's still alright? i mean i didn't read it but eh

(bonus points if you know what the title's from! :3)

agony drips from me, poisonous remedy

wc: 2519

cw: sfw vore (unwilling prey + miscommunication/no communication), panic

—–—

Call him an idiot, call him insane, call his work useless, but he prefers ‘over it’. Because in the depths of all of his pinned up papers, half-finished sketches littering the floors and a thousand theories blurring his head, he has a son, who’s obvious struggles haven't gone unnoticed from Tubbo, and he is over his weird hobby.

He does try, he keeps up with Micheal’s schedule, making sure he’s clean and well-fed and gets to sleep on time, (Although he can't be positive on that because unless his frenzy has kicked up hallucinations, he’s fairly positive he’s heard Micheal’s muffled snorts from just outside his office.)

Tubbo knew about that. He knew his son was distressed and isolated and tired and curious, yet he still persisted with the thing he couldn't even call work, it was just a hobby he clung onto desperately like it was pumping air into his lungs.

So, the recent storm was rather eye-opening. At the first crack of thunder and blast of lighting, Tubbo found it mildly distracting, while Micheal’s panicked squeals had traveled through the mansion and right to Tubbo's office, where the boy then threw himself at his father, burying his face into Tubbo’s chest with panicked breath. Tubbo had jumped at the contact and shuffled his papers around before scooting back to tend to his son. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just a storm, the thunder can’t hurt us,” Tubbo reassures, rubbing circles into the kid’s back. Micheal squeals as another clap of thunder echoes from the sky and rattles the windows of the office. Micheal’s grip on Tubbo’s vest tightens and he has to suppress the urge to wince under the pressure of his forming claws. “It's just passing over us,” Tubbo says, although he can't be sure about that, the weather has been showing signs of storms all week.

Another flash of lightning leaves Tubbo jumping at the way the windows light up at the streak, just a mile too close for his word to stay true. Presumably having felt Tubbo’s jolt of fear, Micheal sobs a little, still huddling close to his father for comfort. Tubbo sighs, tearing his wary attention away from the window and turning to focus on his papers, bullet points about a deity blurring together even more than usual at his worry. He moves his attention from his work and focuses on his son, still shaking with sobs. A wet spot has formed on his jumper from the kid’s tears, meanwhile Tubbo is stunned at what to say. He’s never been the most emotionally available, or if he was he wasted it all on useless attempts at humor to try and calm down Tommy. 

This was his son, and this was not a laughing matter. He stands, his chair sliding back along the wooden floor with a wince-inducing scrape, to which he ignores and focuses on supporting his son. “We haven't had thunder for a while, so, you know what that means?” Tubbo asks, using old techniques Schlatt had used when Tubbo wouldn't be quiet. 

“What?” Micheal asks, smally, voice broken from his tears. 

Another clap of thunder. Micheal gasps softly at the sound. 

“When there's a clap of thunder, you count the seconds between it, and that's how many miles away it is,” Tubbo informs him, still rubbing along his back as he navigates through the mansion.

The hybrid pulls away from his chest, still secure in Tubbo’s grasp but now facing him eye-to-eye, looking a little suspicious of Tubbo's claim. “Not true?” Micheal inquires. Tubbo cracks a smile and shakes his head.

“It's true! Listen, let's wait for the next one,” he says, heading down the grand staircase to find their way to the family room. 

Micheal’s eyes avert his gaze and instead move beyond him to watch the windows, spirit enlightened. Tubbo finds the lift in demeanor satisfying, though without a problem to worry about he finds his mind traveling back to the creature studies sat in his office. Supposedly considered deity amongst the End and the Nether, and the very last creature he has in an old book of monsters he found as a kid. 

He’s never been so riled up over finding something, but Ranboo proved so important that Tubbo would forget his own son in their time of panic. 

Tubbo plops on the couch, Micheal falling with him, just in time for another clap of thunder. “Alright! One, two, three—” Tubbo is cut off as Micheal takes over.

“Four, five—” Boom! The windows rattle and a few pieces of lopsided furniture shudder. That’s odd. It hadn't been so close before…boom!

Micheal squeals. That was loud. 

“Hey, hey, bossman, you're alright! It's just thunder,” Tubbo says, holding his boy tight while keeping his eyes glued to the pitch-black windows. 

“Too close!” Micheal squeals out, his hybrid coming out in a fit of snorts and whines that make Tubbo’s heart ache. Why did he tell him about the distance method? 

He considers calling Phil, but he doubts his communicator will work in this storm. The loud rush of rain hitting the window becomes apparent to him the more it picks up, rapidly thumping on the glass panes. Micheal’s crying again, his body quivering with every hiccup. 

“Hey, baby, you're okay,” Tubbo whispers. He can't handle this. Boom! “Bud, how about a special trip to old man Phil? I bet he and Technoblade can help, huh?” He asks, bouncing the hybrid on his knee. All that Michael responds with is a childish sob. 

His heart twists. Tubbo pulls him close, picking the kid up. He can make it to Phil and Technoblade's cabin, and then he can just…pick up where he left off with his work. You know, unless he dies. 

Tubbo’s footsteps softly echo around the high ceilings, just barely audible against Micheal’s crying. “We’re going to go out to uncle Technoblade and old man Phil’s cabin, alright Micheal? They’ll know what to do,” Tubbo informs, sliding into his shoes and setting the kid down by the door. “Which coat do you want, bossman?”

Micheal hiccups, staring up at Tubbo with confusion in his eyes. For the most part, it goes unnoticed  while he opens up the chest of their jackets and shoes. 

“I don't want to be in storm,” Micheal says, frowning. Tubbo pulls a coat from the chest and pulls it around himself, grabbing another one for extra good measure. He zips the two up then crouches down to eye level with the piglin.

“I know, I know. We just need to get somewhere a little safer, okay? Their houses are more prepared for this,” he lies, knowing full well that while he knows the storm is coming closer, he really was orchestrating this so he could just get some quiet work time, no matter how bad he felt about it. 

Micheal, at the very least, seems to buy it. “Okay…I want red, Techno color!” the piglin says, squealing in delight at his own mention of Technoblade. 

“Ah, what did I expect,” he chuckles, pulling out a red raincoat from the chest and carefully pulling Micheal’s arms through each sleeve, then buttoning it up gently. Micheal flaps his hand as Tubbo pats his chest to let him know he’s ready to go. Tubbo pulls out his wellies, a blue pair to take after Tommy, (Who he’s quite sure took after Ghostbur), then hands them to micheal to fit on. In the end, Tubbo is fighting down his overwhelming guilt of letting Micheal go for the storm. 

He's adorable, already abandoning fear because he looks like his uncles, (And his flaunting his excitement of the fact). Techno’s old raincoat almost pools at Micheal’s feet, the faded thing barely fitting yet somehow keeping Micheal in complete bliss.

“You look dapper,” Tubbo compliments, one last time reaching into the chest and grabbing out an umbrella before closing it. “Ready to go visit Philza, bossman?” 

Ultimately, Micheal looks a little uncomfortable at the thought of going out into the storm, although the thunder has been distant recently and Tubbo can tell Micheal has registered that.

“I think!” he responds, voice wavering before gaining confidence near the end. He smiles shallowly. 

With one arm, Tubbo lifts Micheal up into his hold again, the piglin snorting at the quick movement. He switches the umbrella to the hand holding Micheal and opens the front door, pulling at it until it finally opens with a pop!, leaving him stumbling at the sudden jerk. He keeps it open with his foot and steps out, shielded from the pouring rain under the thin awning. The door slams shut behind him, nearly causing him to drop the umbrella as Micheal jumps at the sound and digs his fingers into Tubbo’s already-sore sides. 

He huffs out his pain and slides open the umbrella, which clicks as it locks. Tubbo raises it above their heads and steps out into the storm. Immediately, the constant stream of rain against the material above their heads pounds in Tubbo’s ears, even as damaged as they are. 

Boom! 

Immediately, Tubbo hears Micheal whisper under his breath: “One, two, three four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten—” Boom! 

“Ten miles is pretty far,” Tubbo comments, trudging through the thin layer of snow that he’d just shoveled earlier today. It mixes into a sludge with the rain, crunching under his boots in a pleasing manner, something to distract him from his desire to study and his worry of making it through the path to Techno’s cabin. It also distracts him from the impending feeling like he’s being watched. 

He tries to convince himself that isn't true, for the most part, even though he does give in with a quick look around his surroundings. The only thing he’s ever met with is the comfort of being alone with just him and his boy. 

Wind laps around them, the thunder and lightning seemingly having passed already, the only applicable features of the storm remaining being the strong rain and the surprisingly aggressive winds. He can barely see anything, let alone hear anything outside of the wind in his ears, Micheal’s hushed shivers and whimpers, and the rain on the umbrella. All the mobs have taken a rest for the night, thankfully, but it only leaves him in suspense. 

Who had eyes on him if not a zombie or a creeper? 

Who was watching him from above, threatening the security of him and his son?

About halfway through the forest to Techno’s cabin, he pauses at the sound of something shuffling. Micheal hums at the motion, his attention also caught on the noise. Perhaps he would've passed it off as a victim of the storm, but it seemed too orchestrated, like something running into a bush. He tries putting it behind him, whispering a reassurance to both himself and the boy. 

Tubbo makes it two steps before there's another rustle. Now, he stops. Full-fledged freezes, subconsciously holding Micheal a little closer. His grip on the umbrella handle tightens until his knuckles run pale while he spins around against the wind to look around. 

The hue of something red and green catches his eye. Too large to be anyone's communicator or any of the server’s eyes. Too vibrant for a coat or anything of the sorts, too colorful for an animal, no, this was the watchful gaze of Ranboo.

It fit the description of their eyes, the giant creature often hunched low to the forest floor, said to be a nod to their connection with the Nether. 

Tubbo can’t help the excitement that flares up against the fear. Ranboo was feet from him. He has been searching for so long—he finally can care about his son the way he needed to. 

“Papa?” Micheal inquires, presumably noticing the way Tubbo has stopped in his tracks again. 

Tubbo shushes the piglin. “Hold on for a second, bud,” he says, hiking up the kid before he slips out of his hold. Micheal seems to relax, resting his head on Tubbo’s shoulder while he waits. 

Meanwhile, Tubbo stands, staring at the vibrant eyes in the foliage ahead.  

“Ranboo,” he whispers. The eyes lift up a bit, like the mention of their name intrigued them. Tubbo’s spirit lightens immensely. 

A crack of lightning charges through the sky, lighting it up enough for him to make out a rough outline of the crouching monster. “Woah..yeah, that's you, Ranboo!” He says slowly, more of a reassurance to himself than anything. 

“You're Ranboo, right?” Tubbo calls out to the forest. The eyes disappear for a moment before reappearing as the creature blinks. 

There's a small vwoop! that echoes through the forest. Micheal perks up at that, turning his head in the direction of Ranboo. Against his fingertips, even through the raincoat, Tubbo's feels as Micheal tenses up. 

“What's that?!” the kid demands, fear inflicted in his voice. His pink fur has risen at the fear he emits.

“It's nothing to be afraid of, just an important thing I've been looking for,” he informs the kid. Micheal doesn't seem to relax. 

Ranvoo releases another vwoop! which is shadowed with a glk! that echoes from their throat. 

Suddenly, a thick tail with a furry, split-colored tuft is extending from the forest and into the clearing, rising high above them before, strangely prehensile as it curls around Micheal’s small form, somehow breaking the boy's contact with Tubbo. Micheal squeals at it, crying out for his dad. Before he has the time to react, Micheal is plucked from his grasp and swept up in Ranboo's tail, becoming a speck of pink amongst a sea of black and white. 

“Hey! What the fuck?!” Tubbo yells, immediately dropping the umbrella to run after the retracting tail. The rain pours into him immediately, wind rushing in his ears and pushing him as he trails after Micheal quickly. He stumbles over his feet, ankles rolling at his attempts to stay sturdy in snow. 

Tubbo can just barely hear Micheal’s panicked squeals and snorts while re-entering the forest, quickly behind the tail as he runs uselessly towards his son. “Ran-Ranboo! Sir–um, oh my god, surely you doing need to do that!” Tubbo calls up, watching from the shadows as Micheal is lifted effortlessly into Ranboo's two-finger hold, dangling him in open air, infuriatingly oblivious to his panic and sobs. 

Tubbo’s heart sinks when he watches through another streak of lightning illumates the forest around them, as his son is drawn to Ranboo’s open maw, a fit of sobs and garbled calls for his dad and screams to stop. 

Immediately, he runs closer to the giant, who’s still crouched over the clearing. 

“Oh god, oh my god, what the—RANBOO!” Tubbo yells, hands cupped over his mouth desperately. Rain pours down into him as he runs, causing him to stumble in the mud. As he approaches, he realizes quickly he can barely reach the edge of Ranboo's leg despite his immediate attempts to jump at it, and at another clap of thunder and bolt of lightning, he’s craning his neck in horror as he watches a lump in the deity’s throat travel down. 

—–—

taglist: @i-am-beckyu, @skullsnbruises, @nobodywritingao3, @krazycat49, @da3dm, @a-xyz-s // taglist request

#brickquiries #anon brickling #mw #brickfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!micheal #t!tubbo #g!ranboo #tw vore #safe vore

[2-sleepy-for-this]

That Squeezing Feeling

And just like that, it’s finally done! This was for the 2022 MCYT G/T Secret Santa ‘winter wonderland’ and my assignment was 🥁🥁

@deathemo !! :)

I hope you like it! The prompt was: g!naga tommy and surprise tinies are out in the snow, tommy has to carry them and gets some intrustive thoughts, especially about how fragile the tinies and just how easy it would be for him just to squish them. It ends with them comforting tommy and it turns into a big fluf

Tw: intrusive thoughts, squeezing, dehumanization, slight fear (I think that’s it?)

word count: 1.5k

Cold. That was what led to this. Tommy’s tail slithered over the fresh snow as his human family trailed next to him. As a Naga, you’d think he would be freezing right now, with stiff limbs and a slowed heart while he slept in his brumation period. But Tommy wasn’t like most Nagas. As the biggest man alive, he was able to block out the cold with his thick scales and stay nice and warm from his human half.

The snowstorm took them completely by surprise while the misfit family spent a day in a nice field Tommy had found. It was sunny and warm earlier in the day as Tommy basked in the sun, Tubbo convincing Ranboo to join him in climbing Tommy’s tail while Wilbur watched from a few feet away. The weather changed quickly after that and as the clouds rolled in and the wind picked up; they tried leaving to beat the storm home. This didn’t work as planned. Now all of them were stuck walking in the forest as more snow drifted down to taunt them.

“Guys, I’m tired,” Tubbo groaned. “Can you carry me the rest of the way, Toms?”

When Tommy looked over to make a snarky comment about laziness, he was met with the one thing he couldn’t say no to: Tubbo’s puppy eyes at full force. Tommy had to take a stuttering second to collect his thoughts from the sudden look. Tubbo used his puppy eyes occasionally, whenever he wanted something fast, or just to mess with people, but it caught Tommy off guard every time. 

Finally, he gave in with a sigh and scooped up Tubbo with no warning, earning a startled noise.

The four continued on their way through the Forest, one now getting a reluctant, free ride. Eventually, as Tommy was in a deep focus on moving forward, and the small life in his hands that felt so small, so fragile-

There was a sudden weight on his tail, and he stopped. Tommy’s first instinct was to curl around the thing and squeeze. 

But Tommy’s a big man and big men don’t live off of their instincts, not anymore, so he instead turned to look at it. There, sitting like a king on a scaled throne, was his older brother, Wilbur. He let out a sigh of relief, still riled up from the scare.

“Hey, warn a guy next time, why don’t ya,” Tommy scoffed, slightly annoyed, “and get off my tail!”

“If Tubbo gets a free ride, then I’m not walking. "

“…fine”

Tommy gave in. It made sense to just carry all of them, really. He was faster, after all. Besides, even an idiot could see the side eyes Ranboo was giving him, it’d be a lot easier if he just asked to be picked up though.

“What are you waiting for, Ranboo? Get up here,”

With only a small hesitation, Ranboo made his way up, claiming a spot next to Wilbur on Tommy’s red scales. Tommy started hopefully the way they came earlier, now with two more added passengers. But for some reason, that instinct of squeezing something stayed, even after calming down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few minutes of Tommy slithering on the fresh snow when Wilbur and Ranboo moved from his tail to his hands, where Tubbo was sitting. Apparently, his human hands were much warmer than his scaled tail and none of them were dressed right for the cold weather to begin with.

With his friends held gently to his chest, blocking out the cold, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, letting their minds wander. Tommy’s mind especially had the tendency to wander far.

Every so often he would get this feeling, a sense of dread. It would only grow as his small family got closer to him. Most of the time it just stayed in the back of his mind, but right now he had nothing but the forest in front of him to concentrate on. 

Tommy could feel the slight shivers of his family against his chest as he tried his best to protect them from the cold. How do they survive anything being this small? He could hold all of them in his hands, no problem, he could do anything to them with ease. 

Suddenly, those instincts were back with one simple thought: squeeze them. 

Tommy felt horrified when he heard that, doing his best to shake the thought out of his head, but it wasn’t working. 

A human is just so so fragile, it wouldn’t take much for it to break.

Them. His family aren’t ‘it’s. What was he thinking? 

But imagine how satisfying it would be, the fear in their eyes. It’s been so long since he saw them like that. Their first meeting was so long ago and since then, they’d gotten used to him quickly.

Just a bit of fear wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s a naga, he’s made to do a lot worse than scare these little creatures.

“Uh…toms?”

Wilbur’s voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance. What was happening again? They were going home, right? And he’s holding them- he’s holding them too tight-

Looking down at his family, he could see some uncertainty in their eyes. They would look much more worried if they could read his thoughts. But what he was petrified of was feeling his hold on them loosen as they took a collective gasp of air.

He was squeezing them. He was squeezing them. Not hard enough to hurt or even bruise, but it could have been if he zoned out any longer.

“What’s going on?” Ranboo said, concerned, but Tommy couldn’t miss the edges of fear in his voice. “A-Are you ok Tommy?”

“I.. yea, yea, I-I’m fine. Just tired from having to carry my lazy friends. "

He tried joking to change the subject. It mostly worked, as they gave him a few offended remarks before starting a new conversation. But Tommy couldn’t focus on what was being said. He had almost hurt his family.

He couldn’t help it when he stared at the surrounding snow, breaths coming in short and shaking.

They trust him so much and he wants to scare them..wants to hurt them. 

No, he doesn’t want that. It’s his stupid instincts that want him to throw away all the trust he knows he doesn’t deserve. He’s better than this! 

Looking in the distance, he can see a familiar cave opening and rushes the rest of the way inside, wanting to put the fragile lives in his hands down before something else happens.

“Finally, I thought we’d be stuck out there all night!” 

Tommy tried to laugh at Tubbo’s joke, but it came out forced. He had to get away from them.

He jumped as something cold stroked his scales

squeeze it

No! 

He looked to see Ranboo petting the side of his tail. He looked concerned. He found his other family members had similar expressions. 

“Tommy, you can tell us if something’s bothering you,” Ranboo said. “You know that, right?”

“Yea! We’re family, and that means you can tell us all your secrets. "

“What Tubbo means to say is, we care about you and if something’s wrong, we want to know. "

Wilbur sounded so sincere, they all did. Maybe he was just overreacting. With a sigh, Tommy tried opening up about everything that had happened that night.

“W-well, it’s nothing really, I mean not nothing nothing but also nothing to worry about, I promise. I'm just overreacting… it’s nothing serious but, ..every once in a while I get, uh. I-I getthesethoghtstohurtyouguyseventhoughIwouldntdothatbecauseyourmyfamilyand- “

“Woah, woah, woah calm down toms, it’s alright.” Wilbur tried reassuring, “just breath and try this again, slowly”

“… Sometimes I get thoughts that tell me to hurt you guys. I-I wouldn’t ever do it though! They just show up when I don’t want them to. And sometimes I get these instincts in the back of my mind telling me what to do… they just got really bad. I’m so sorry, please don’t leave. I promise I can learn to stop.”

The three humans on the floor seemed shocked as Tommy rambled. How had they never realized, of course, Tommy would have instincts like this. He’s a naga. Even though they’re close, it’s still ingrained in his head. 

It must be so hard for him to deal with all this alone.

They weren’t gonna let that happen anymore.

It took some time, but eventually, the humans got Tommy to calm down and told him they had no plans of leaving him. Never.

And as the commotion from the inside of the cave grew quiet, if a hiking human were to wander in past the brush hiding the entrance, they would see not a fearsome naga with its helpless victims, but a family held close together with trust.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ta-da! Hope you all enjoyed and I may start writing more after this ;)

#mcyt gt secret santa 2022 #mcyt g/t #dream smp g/t #dsmp g/t #giant!tommy #g!tommy #tiny!wilbur #t!wilbur #tiny!tubbo #t!tubbo #tiny!ranboo #t!ranboo #That Squeezing Feeling au #giant/tiny #g/t #g/t community #i actually really like this one #turned out great #hope you liked it!

[ingo4you]

some Art :3

.......Tw: safe/soft vore

pX ɹǝɥ ǝʞıl sʞool ʇusǝop ǝɥS znɔ ɥɔnɯ ʎɹǝʌ ʇɹɐ sıɥʇ uı ıʞıN ǝʞıl ʇ,uop I ʇnq 'ʎpunℲ puɐ ıʞıN ǝq oʇ pǝsoddns sɐʍ ʇI

tag list: @andy3110

#dsmp g/t #soft vore #safe vore #dream smp g/t

[astraymetronome]

I finished the first chapter the night before this was posted. I'm busy all day today so I can't really take time to post it so I opted to schedule it the night before.

This is a gift for @cyncerity and I do plan to write a few more chapters. It's my own play on their trapped Wilbur au so I hope you enjoy it. I'm calling this Of Starlings and Confines but the tag will just be #Starling AU since it's a little bit of a long title.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Also if anyone wants @'d when new chapters come out. Repost it so I know.

The soft cardigan that draped over his shoulders was enough to tell Tommy he was safe. He had barely managed to make this from Friend’s wool before everything went to hell. It was going to go lay it on the grave he’d made for the ghost but he couldn’t bring himself to do away with it. After all, he didn’t have a chance to see him. Wilbur and Niki had taken the sheep before he even found the sheep’s reborn body. 

On top of this the cape techno had left with him had been turned into a cover for his wings. The avian hybrid knew full well that, if given the chance, Dream would try to cut them off in a heartbeat. He brushed his blond from his eyes, narrowly missing the scar that adorned his forehead. His tail swished as he quietly fettled with his khakis and ruined green bandana that was tied around a belt loop. 

The 16-year-old knew he shouldn’t be doing this, let alone when Dream was on the loose, but he had to check on Boo and Tubbo. They may not be on the best terms as of right now but he had to know they were safe from that fucker’s greed. He wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt from the stupid obsession. The dreamon wasn’t going to be allowed to do any more harm to any of them. He stepped from his dirt shack, running his hands through his messy curls before he let his wings spread. The wind blew through each feather, allowing his instincts to sing at the long-abandoned desire for 5 years. He hadn’t brought himself to return to the sky despite how much Philza had begged him. 

Flying had sadly become a trigger for his PTSD. He hated it considering flying was once a desired release. Dream had taken it from him by clipping his flight feathers and threatening to remove his wings altogether if he attempted to fly once they grew back. It was an endless cycle of having them retired before he even got to use new flight feathers. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure he could still fly after all this time. 

Ignoring his inner dialogue, the blonde let his wings beat almost to the rhythm of a heart before he fluttered into the air. It wasn’t graceful like his dad had once described his flight pattern and instinct, but the sensation of wind and the air brushing under and over feathers was peaceful. He could feel the cape over his shoulders getting in the way of his wings despite being decently pinned. He felt glad he’d done that so at least instead of trapping air or interrupting his flight they instead rested in between his shoulder blades and fell, following the space, past his scapulars.

Each stroke of his pinions brought him closer to his destination and the duo’s home. He knew the husbands would probably be against seeing him, considering Boo didn’t act anything like Ranboo did. Tubbo refused to let him around them since he didn’t want his platonic lover's ghost to disappear. Tommy just needed to make sure they were safe and warn them about the risk Dream opposed to them getting back at him. 

No matter how mad he get at that smiling blob of a fucking person he refused to take it out on anyone but him or not at all. Puffy’s therapy had taught him enough to grow healthy coping mechanisms but.. Well of course this had to ruin his weekly visits upon escaping since Puffy couldn’t handle having her son released. The ewe had mixed feelings after he caused Techno to be dragged into Pogtoupia’s beef which led to her youngest child’s death. 

Tommy hated going into the rabbit hole of his own thoughts but at least it distracted him from the fear bubbling in his stomach. The nagging fear that bubbled in his abdomen, flooded forward and gave a sensation of nausea that shot through every fiber of his being. He did his best to hide it deep down just like he did with most things. This wasn’t something he could hope or wish away like some of his feelings. 

As he got closer, the distant sounds of shouting and seemingly an argument reached his space. Being this high in the air he really shouldn’t be able to hear it but, if they were this loud, something had to be wrong. He broke into a hover, letting his wings slow down into a glide as he made his way down to them. It was hard to get down quickly without just dropping his weight so this was the next best option. 

Once his sneakers reached the brush, grass and moss being crushed under his weight, the teen stepped forward. It was rather refreshing to hear Toby even if he wasn’t in a good mood. The ghostly echo that seemed to speak in response wasn’t very surprising considering the connection Boo had still attached to his spouse. Nothing could kill the bond they both had, Tommy wished he could have experienced the same thing even after exile. 

“We can’t just let that bastard have our son! Goddamnit Ranboo!” His goat friend yelled out, Tommy could see how Boo kept stepping in front of Tubbo as he yelled towards if not behind the ghost. He sighed moving forward and into view of the couple. He wasn’t surprised as the fellow hybrid looked over the enderman’s shoulder and towards him. The half-blind teen simply glared in his direction before the insatiable happened. 

“Tommy! The homeless Teletubby stole Michael!” Tommy could feel his blood run cold at this. He’d been too late to stop that fuckers actions and the choice to take it out on others who no longer had a part in this. He felt a snarl press against his lips and cross his face as he turned. 

“Which way did he go.” He found himself mumbling.

“There is no-” Boo began but Tommy refused to let him finish.

“Where the fuck did he take your son!” The blonde shouted, watching as Tubbo’s eyes lit up for a moment, only a moment, as his hand pointed towards the east. Tommy didn’t even take a second to consider his options before he let his wings open and brought himself up above the trees, propelling himself in that direction. No matter how long the two of them planned to hate or dislike him, he refused to let Michael be a victim. 

He knew Boo would be mad but he didn’t care. Tommy needed to keep Michael safe when Ranboo would be eager to see him if, no, once he was back from the afterlife. He was quick to rush, his dark wings weren’t well adjusted for hiding in the dark unlike his brother’s. Wilbur’s wings had white slats that had some dark brown or black shading. He thought they were beautiful in comparison to his black primaries and bright red flight feathers. His own wingspan of 7 feet seemed to dwarf his size but it really wasn’t. In comparison to his body, when spread out, they looked proper and reminded him of Phil’s crow-based wings. He wasn’t actually aware of the bird his were based on. He knew the immortal knew but he’d never really gotten to bring it up. 

He watched the ground, much like a hawk searching for a rabbit or something along those lines. Unlike a hawk, he was well aware of what he needed to find, not a victim to instincts and a need for food, unlike the well-known predator. Tommy refused to let himself be swallowed up by stupid nature, he wasn’t going to lose himself to it. 

He was unaware of how long it took for him to take notice of pink and white. Without another hesitation he dropped, landing roughly and accidentally causing the small child to scare. The moment the three-year-old’s white eyes landed on his form, the small snort that left him as crying started caused his heart to lurch in panic. He couldn’t believe Dream would consider harming this angel.

“Hey, Big Mike.” Tommy whispered as his arms wrapped around the child’s body, his wings moving to hug him as well. He refused to let him go as the pigling squirmed to be held higher. He tucked the child on his hip, listening as he muttered something in enderspeak. He wasn’t proficient in the language, unable to learn more after Ranboo’s passing.

“Scared. Taken. Green. Blob.” It honestly made no sense to him but he knew what Micheal meant by the green blob. He could feel a growl forming in his throat as he carefully juggled the toddler's body. His hands held him protectively as he moved the cape, uncliping it as he used it to slightly swaddle him. He knew the small boar would like the texture considering he remembered how Techno used to wrap him in one of his own capes. 

Tommy heard something, his slightly pointed ears swiveling as he glanced around. His grip grew more possessive and protective as he looked for the cause. He had this sneaking feeling it was going to be who he thought it was. Dream had no reason to back up or leave. The avian had no armor or weapons on him and he was sure that he would at least need to survive long enough to get Micheal to Tubbo. 

He shook as he glared before his sharp eyes took notice of the small white form on the floor. He wasn’t used to seeing Dream’s blob form. He knew the dreamon was well versed in transformation magic but… this was different. The asshole never entered this form unless he was around George or Sapnap. Tommy lifted him up, with some hesitancy, before hastily dropping him into his pocket and making his way towards the small piglin’s home. He had to get him home before he could take care of this. 

His interest was peaked and, if Tommy was honest, having a chance to take the dreamon back to prison for once and for all, was too important to give up.

#Starling AU #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt g/t #mcyt tommyinnit #mcyt tubbo #mcyt ranboo #vore will be in a later chapter #i'ma sucker for buildup #avian!tommy #hybrid!tommy #hybrid!tubbo #hybrid!ranboo #technically hybrid!boo #hybrid!micheal #demon!dream #tiny!dream #dream smp #discduo #be prepared for angst #trapped wilbur au #rewrite? #kinda

[crystalsblogcorner]

Drawing that ranboo ref for the Shifting Bonds AU rlly got me going with motivation so I give you.. Tubbo ref sheet! Soon enough I’ll have all the characters, maybe I should let y’all goose the next one, click the poll to choose which one I draw next :)

For the peoples who haven’t read it! Shifting Bonds AU

#shifting bonds au #dream smp #g/t #crystal drawings #tws for shifting bonds #tw vore #safe vore #tw graphic descriptions of blood and gore #tw dehumanization #tw violence #dsmp g/t

[missarchivistdoodles]

Tommy and the Beanstalk: Chapter 1

(AO3 Link)

Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time

Tommy crouched behind a watering can taller than himself and tried to remember how he'd come to be here, hands clasped over his mouth as his death approached with ground-shaking steps.

He could blame Henry for this whole thing, but it wasn't her fault - not really. She wasn't an old cow, but with what little they had to feed her, it was inevitable that eventually she wouldn't be able to give milk anymore. He'd thought they'd had more time before it happened, still a season more where he could sneak out to the barn and sleep against her soft stomach after another day of hard labor, and listen to her heart beat steadily beneath her white and brown hide. But no, the time had come, and he'd walked into the kitchen with an empty bucket and excuses on his lips.

Dream hadn't been impressed - hadn't been willing to listen. The knight had been sitting at the small kitchen table, pouring over one of his many thick tomes, making notes in the margins of text too cramped and small for Tommy to even imagine reading. His mask had been pushed up, resting on the top of his head so he could squint at the complex runes laid out in a diagram, and he'd barely flicked a glance to the boy as he came in from the barn.

"No milk?" There was no surprise in the question, no shock or horror at the idea of their beloved cow starving. Just acceptance. She'd been giving less and less lately, and Dream had already mentioned selling her a few times in passing, though Tommy always vehemently argued against it. Silently, the boy set the empty pail by the sink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse for the lack of milk.

"Tommy, I asked you a question." Dream's voice was still-water calm, but his actions weren't. He slammed the book shut, and the jars of ink on the table danced, one nearly falling over. The boy did his best to hide a flinch.

"Sorry, sir." He straightened his spine a bit, shoulders pulled back, and folded his hands behind himself. "Henry - I couldn't get any milk. Sir."

Dream sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat back in his chair, looking exhausted. "Tommy," he said, his voice weary, "I know you care about the cow, but if it can't make milk, then we can't afford to feed it."

Tommy's shoulders crept up to his ears, and he folded in on himself a bit. "I - I know, but we can't just sell her! She's - she's Henry!" He tried to argue as Dream climbed to his feet. "She's - she's family! We ca-"

The hit shouldn't have been a surprise, but Tommy was so busy defending the cow, he didn't see it coming. Dream had always been able to move quickly, silently - it was what made him so dangerous on the battlefield and during tournaments. The backhand snapped his head to the side, cutting him off mid-word, as Dream loomed over him.

"We do not use that word," the knight reminded him, tone tight and dangerous. Tommy shrunk in on himself, one hand reaching up to cradle his cheek, which was already beginning to turn red. He fixed his gray eyes on the floor and wrapped his other hand around his stomach, making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, just how Dream liked it. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, all indignant rage on Henry's behalf gone.

"Why are you sorry?" The knight threaded his fingers through Tommy's hair, gripping it tightly.

"I'm sorry I said - I said the word."

"What word?"

Tommy swallowed, hesitated, and Dream gave his hair a yank. "What word, Tommy?" 

"Family," he whispered.

"And why don't we use that word?"

"Because family always leaves."

The grip on his head loosened, then those fingers were carding through his hair, soothing the pain it had caused. "Families always leave," Dream agreed. "You can't trust them. You can't make attachments." Once more, his golden tangles were caught in a tight grip. "Do you remember why?"

"Attachments make you weak."

"Good." Dream heaved a sigh, as though exhausted from having to hold a conversation with his ward. He released Tommy, taking a step back and folding his arms over his chest. "We can't be weak, Tommy - you can't survive in the world that way. Not with your…handicap. You're better than that, I know you are." 

"I'm sorry," Tommy kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to look his mentor in the eye and see his disappointment.

"I know you are." Another sigh, and the guilt in Tommy's gut began to squirm. He hated disappointing Dream - nothing made him feel worse. Dream stepped past him, to the coat hooks hanging beside the door, and pulled down a lead. "Here. If you leave now, you can reach the market in time to sell Henry to the butcher."

"What?!" Tommy recoiled as the woven rope was held out to him. "But - but-"

"Are you going to butcher it yourself?" Dream demanded, his annoyance returning. "It's a cow, Tommy - it's just food." When he still didn't reach for the rope, the knight's face darkened, and a noticeable edge lined his voice. "Either you take it to market and return with the gold, or I'll make you butcher it yourself." 

He would - Tommy knew he would. Dream wouldn't hesitate, not if he thought it would teach Tommy a lesson. He took the lead in numb fingers, the side of his face throbbing, and nodded as his mentor gave him instructions, including how much he expected Tommy to return with.

Because Tommy would be returning with gold, gold he earned by selling his only friend. As soon as Dream gave him permission, he fled from their small cottage, barely able to stifle his sobs. He couldn't let Dream see his attachment, not if he wanted to make sure Henry's last day was perfect.

~*~

They took the long way to the village. The cottage Dream owned was a few miles from town, on the other side of a small but thick forest. Tommy knew every inch of the woods around the path, including the small clearings full of flowers, and the babbling brook that sometimes held little wiggly minnows that flashed in the sunlight. He made sure to take his time, plodding slowly along Henry, letting her stop to nibble at the daisies that grew along the edge of the dirt path or pause to sniff at the bushes heavy with early-season berries. At one point, when the sun was at its highest, he gently tugged her towards his favorite clearing, leading her carefully through a thick copse of trees to a small, hidden glade. A brook bubbled beneath a large willow tree, and there were wildflowers and clover a plenty. He took the lead off and watched as she trundled about, taking a long drink before discovering a thick carpet of clover near the roots of the willow and setting about eating every one she could find.

He sat near her, slowly munching on the bruised apple Dream had shoved into his hands before he set off towards town. They were still about an hour away, if they didn't stop to sniff the flowers. But he fully intended on letting Henry smell whatever she wanted, so he estimated they'd reach the village by late afternoon. His stomach twisted anxiously, and with a grimace he tossed the apple aside, confident a squirrel or chipmunk would make a good meal of it eventually. 

When he returned home tonight, it would be alone, no gentle lowing or soft hoofsteps accompanying him. By the time he curled up in his small room, Henry would be gone. He would never get to spend time with her again, never seek her out after a nightmare, never brush her soft coat or laugh as she nuzzled him for attention. He could never go to her with bruised ribs and aching scrapes again, seeking comfort after his lessons with Dream. And he would never be able to speak to someone about his handicap, about the weight he carried like an albatross around his neck, about the secret he had to hide lest he endanger not only himself, but Dream and everything they had worked to build. He would be alone in his head again with the secret, with the knowing, with the damned weight on his back growing heavier every time he redid the bandages and had to hide part of himself…

A cool, velvety snout nuzzled the side of his face, pressing against the darkening bruise that was spreading along his cheek. He jerked away, but couldn't help but smile as Henry lowed at him, shoving her face into the crook of his neck, huffing against his pale skin. Wiggling beneath the ticklish touch, Tommy twisted so he could throw his arms around her large neck, pressing their foreheads together. The pair would have been content to stay like that for as long as time allowed, but a branch in the forest at the edge of the clearing cracked, and both of them whipped their heads towards the noise.

A woman was standing there, looking equally startled by the noise. She slowly lifted a booted heel from the branch she'd stepped on, giving them an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry," her voice was soft and kind, "I didn't mean to startle you two."

Tommy pushed himself to his feet, but kept one arm thrown around Henry's neck. The woman was…odd. She wasn't too tall, and didn't appear too old, but her clothing was dark, and there was a black veil attached to the wide-brimmed hat she was wearing. Flowers and gems were tucked in the band around the hat, and matched the gold stitching along the edges of her dress. Tommy was sure he was taller than her - for a fourteen-year-old, he was a bit of a beanstalk, tall and skinny - but she seemed to fill the whole clearing with her presence, the same way Dream could fill a room. Unlike Dream, however, she radiated…kindness. Softness. Something warm and comforting that had his shoulders dropping from his ears, and his grip around Henry loosening. 

"I'm Kristin," the woman introduced herself, taking a step into the clearing proper. Her skirts brushed over the bobbling wildflowers, which seemed to reach towards her as she moved. "What are your names?"

Tommy didn't hesitate the way he normally would - Dream didn't like him interacting with many others, especially adults. They only needed each other in the world, nobody else. No friends. No family. It was safer that way, easier to keep a secret and stay safe. But here in the clearing, under the gentle gaze of Kristin, he answered. "I'm Tommy," he motioned to himself, then gave the cow a gentle squeeze where he was half-hugging her, "and this is Henry."

"Hello, Tommy." Kristin moved the veil away from her face, throwing the long, sheer fabric back over the hat so she could smile at the pair properly. "Good afternoon, Henry. What are you two doing out in the woods today?"

"We're on our way to the market." Tommy reached up and fiddled with one of Henry's soft, silky ears. The cow whuffed and shoved her large head against his own in a gentle, loving headbutt.

"Oh?" Kristin asked, prompting for more. 

"We can't afford to keep her anymore." He wasn't sure why he blurted the words, the secret. The constant struggle for money was something that set Dream off more than anything else, even Tommy's smart mouth and rude comments. Whatever he won from tournaments, or gathered from his work as a knight for Lord Schlatt, went to fund his studies into enchanting. Tommy was in charge of keeping their small farm running, gathering eggs from the chickens to sell in town or eat for breakfast, and tending to the small vegetable plots in the fields. Sometimes, when there were a few coppers left and Tommy was especially good, Dream let him get some penny candies from the general store in the village. It was beyond rare, but that just made the treat all the better.

"Are you looking to sell her, then?" Kristin had kept moving forward and now stopped only a foot away. Henry made a soft noise and sniffed at the hand the woman offered, frame tensing for just a moment before relaxing. She rested her large snout in the woman's hand with a huff, dark liquid eyes falling half-closed. "Aw, what a sweetheart." 

Tommy gave the woman another quick look up and down. Her clothing was clean and made of what looked like silks and dark-dyed, evenly-woven linen, and her boots were sturdy and clear of dust and mud. She was a well-to-do woman, from a family with money. And she was looking at Henry the same way he did - with affection and care, seeing not a walking side of beef but a wonderful, beautiful friend who was the greatest comfort he knew. 

"She's really sweet," he agreed, patting Henry's head, right between her soft ears, "and smart, too. She never causes any trouble, either - except for that one time with the alfalfa, but we don't talk about that." He gave Kristin his best smile, playful and charming, eyes brightening a bit as hope flickered in his chest. If he could convince this rich woman to buy Henry, there was a good chance she'd live on, even if it was away from him. He tried to widen his eyes a bit, giving his best puppy-dog stare as the woman considered the pair of them.

"Alfalfa, hmm?" Kristin was smiling widely now, cradling Henry's bottom jaw with one hand, the other gently petting her nose. "Are you an alfalfa girl, then? Better than clover, is it?" She leaned forward, looking the cow right in the eye. "I can see it - you may look all sweet and gentle, but there's still a flame in you. A desire to survive. To grow." 

For some reason, the last word made Tommy shudder. The way she said it - grow - like it had a meaning beyond a heifer fattening up for the colder months sent a shiver down his spine. There was power in her words, the same way there was power in her presence. He glanced up and found her staring at him, not at Henry, an odd look in her eyes, though it vanished so quickly he thought he must have imagined it.

"How much?"

"Eh?" Tommy straightened abruptly at the question.

"How much for Henry?" Kristin pulled her gaze back to the cow, gently petting one of her silky ears. "I have a friend who would adore her."

"A - a friend?" That wasn't as ideal as the woman herself keeping Henry, but maybe the friend wouldn't be interested in eating her either? 

"Yes. He likes to take…damaged things in and fix them." She ran the back of her hand against Henry's cheek, cooing when the cow closed her eyes and made a low, happy noise.

Tommy, however, bristled. "She's not damaged," he bit out. "She's perfect the way she is." Kristin paused, going almost unnaturally still, and for a moment he was sure he'd just messed it all up, but after a moment she nodded.

"You're right, I apologize." She gave him that soft, sweet smile again. "I mean he enjoys helping those who need a little extra love, and Henry here would thrive in his care. She would live a long, happy life with him." 

He squinted. "Is he vegan?"

That startled a laugh from her, loud and delicate, like the chiming of bells in clear winter air. "Oh heavens no," she giggled. "He loves a good ham sandwich." He had a feeling he was missing a joke, but didn't ask. "But for a beautiful soul like this? He'd be happy to let her live her life until Lady Death comes. Besides, he owes me a favor."

At the mention of the Lady Death, Goddess of the Afterlife, Tommy had automatically drawn a rough heart shape over his chest with his pointer finger, the symbol of the lady. The motion was so ingrained he didn't notice he'd done it; he also didn't notice the amused tilt to Kristin's brow or the way her eyes flashed gold for just a moment. 

"So, how much are you asking for her?" Much to the cows disappointment, Kristin pulled her hands from Henry's head and rustled about her skirts for a moment, before pulling a small, jingling pouch from her belt.

"Fifty gold." The number felt enormous - it was more than he'd ever held in his hands at once, but it was what Dream had demanded of him. Fifty gold, and don't bother coming home until he has it. Even if that meant he had to stay in town and work odd jobs to make it.

"Oh, she's worth far more than that!" Kristin exclaimed, making a kissy face at the cow. "You're priceless, aren't you darling?" Still, she opened the clinking purse and examined it with a stern eye, before nodding to herself. "I have exactly what she's worth here." She held it out to Tommy.

He was expecting something priceless - a hundred gold, maybe, or even a gem of some kind! Dream would be singing his praises for weeks if he brought home an honest-to-goodness diamond - but when he took the bag and dumped it into an open palm, he was confused, then disappointed. 

Beans.

Five beans. 

Five small lima beans - at least, that's what he thought. Then he tilted his hand, sending them rolling, and the beans went from the usual pale green of a lima to shining with gold and something…more. They sparkled, a thin layer of purple shimmering atop them, and where they touched his skin began to grow warm. He'd seen something like this before, in Dream's study at the cottage. On a piece of armor he owned - a single pauldron made of odd dark metal he'd found in an antiques shop years ago. 

"That's…magic?" 

Kristin, who had taken Henry's lead in hand, nodded, not looking surprised by the question, or that Tommy recognized the shimmering purple sheen. "Yes. Those beans possess a life-changing magic." She leaned forward a bit, pressing a finger beneath Tommy's chin and tilting his head up, drawing his eyes away from the beans to meet her own. They flickered with something gold, something knowing and wise that made him feel calm and protected, but at the same time set his nerves on edge. It made him feel small. "There are big things in store for you, Tommy Innit," she smiled, and before he could move or ask what they were, she was pressing a kiss to his forehead and pulling away. "Don't worry, Henry will be well taken care of. I'll be seeing you soon." Then she was gone, moving swiftly - too swiftly - from the clearing, Henry trotting happily after her. 

Leaving Tommy standing in the middle of the wildflowers, five magic beans in hand, wondering when he'd told her his last name. 

~*~

He'd dilly-dallied enough that Dream wasn't suspicious when he got home, not even expecting that he hadn't reached the town proper, or sold Henry to Punz, the local butcher. The man was in his study, pouring over the same thick tome from breakfast, scribbling in the margins in bright red ink whenever something caught his eye. Tommy lingered at the cracked door for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves before knocking against the frame. 

"Dream? I'm home."

"Welcome back." Dream didn't sound particularly welcoming, and he didn't look up, just held up his empty hand expectantly. Swallowing down his nerves (which didn't work and just made a weird, lumpy feeling in his throat), Tommy dropped the bag of magic beans into his mentor's hand, grimacing when Dream's arm dipped, as though he'd been expecting more weight. 

After all, fifty gold coins weighed a decent bit, unlike five beans.

Magic beans, he reminded himself, tensing as Dream went unsettlingly still, even his pen scratching to a stop, leaving a large, red blob on the page where it hovered. 

"Tommy." It took every ounce of self-preservation and strength he had (and some he didn't) not to flee at the way Dream said his name. "What is this?"

"Payment. F-for Henry." 

"Tommy." He did flinch this time, and hoped his mentor hadn't noticed. He didn't tolerate weakness.  "Tommy, this is not fifty gold. Where is the money?"

"It's - it's better than gold!" Tommy scrambled to explain. "See, I met this woman on my way to town, in the woods, and she was interested in buying Henry-"

"Tommy." Dream carefully set his pen aside and pushed his chair back, rising to his feet, as the boy kept talking, desperate to explain.

"-and she offered me magic!" The boy gestured wildly to the bag, which was still clutched in Dream's curled fingers. "Five of them! Just look, Dream, I swear - they're gold and they look like that shoulder plate you have, the - the same weird purple sparkle thing! I promise, they're magic! "

The knight paused, eyes narrowing over his freckled cheeks at the words. They rarely discussed his focus of study aloud - after all, magic was taboo, a dangerous thing that had been taken from the world after the war five hundred years ago. Those found studying it, trying to learn about it and how to use it, were often executed without a trial, killed within the walls of their homes or libraries before the buildings were set aflame to remove any trace of the information and send a message to others foolish enough to try the same. Tommy had his secret, his albatross around his neck, but Dream had one too.

Slowly, the knight tugged the drawstring bag open and upended it over his palm. Tommy held his breath, partly in dread that the bag would be empty, it all a fever dream or a ruse, partly because he was excited to see them again, the sparkling gold seed coats and shimmering magic that danced above them. 

Out of the bag fell five small, shriveled beans, dried and dead. 

~*~

All things considered, he was lucky.

Tommy spat blood on the ground, grimacing as the yellow wildflowers were dyed a deep, ugly orange as a result. His lip, split and swollen, wouldn't stop bleeding, no matter how much pressure he put on it. Still, it wasn't his first split lip, and he doubted it would be his last. It wasn't his first bruised rib or black eye or swollen wrist either - just another series in a long list of injuries, all of them justly deserved.

And he'd be damned if he didn't deserve this one.

Dream had been sure to teach him where exactly he'd gone wrong. It was a simple lesson, but one he seemed incapable of learning.

Obey.

His head throbbed, and he paused to lean against a tree, pressing his forehead to the bark in a vain attempt to make the world stop turning. Gods above he was stupid - Dream was right. He was naive and idiotic and nothing more than a rube, falling for a pretty face and a sweet voice that promised more than he could ever hope to achieve.

Magic beans.

What a pile of shit. 

And he'd eaten it all up.

Tommy curled his uninjured hand into a fist and pressed it to his cheek, right where the bruise from that morning had blossomed, creating a dark flower along the side of his face. The pain grounded him, helped him shove his self doubts to the back of his head. He could hate himself later - first he had to figure out where to spend the night.

After educating Tommy on where he'd gone wrong, Dream had given him his punishment: exile. For two weeks. The knight was heading to the capital for a tournament (which, without the money from Henry or her milk, was more important than ever now), and Tommy wasn't allowed within a mile of home while he was gone. The boy hadn't argued - he'd expected Dream to take the cost of the loss from his hide, sure that the knight would finally give up on his incompetent squire and sell him into slavery like he'd threatened so many times before. Instead, he had to spend the weeks in the forest, something he did whenever he had free time anyway. 

Sure, he couldn't go back to the house to get food, and Dream hadn't let him grab anything to take with him, but it was fine. There would be berries to eat in the woods, and if he was lucky some fish in the brook he could catch. That was water and food, and he had trees for shelter. It wasn't winter yet, so he didn't need to worry about freezing to death during the night. He could do this - two weeks would be over before he knew it, and by the time Dream returned with another tournament win under his belt, he'd have forgotten all about Henry and the beans, and Tommy could return home and go back to training to be a squire like nothing had happened. 

The beans. God. Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet bag Dream had thrown at his head in the midst of his lecture, grimacing as they clinked and clattered together. This was all because of the beans. Because of Kristin. He thought he could trust her, but no - no, he put his trust in her, and she'd ruined him. She must have switched the bags when he wasn't looking, leaving him to give Dream a bunch of worthless withered seeds. He snarled to himself, promising that if he ever saw her again, he'd give her a piece of his mind. Crushing the velvet in a fist, he pushed away from the tree and kept going, deeper into the woods. 

Without realizing it, his feet fell along a familiar path, and he emerged in the same glade he had brought Henry to only a few short hours ago. Were they short? Or had they been long, endless, the time he spent wandering the dappled woods with his friend the best he'd spent since his childhood? He couldn't remember. He could remember her dark, liquid eyes, so full of wisdom and care, peering at him as she chewed on the clover, not understanding why they were out and about for the day, but knowing that as long as he was with her there was nothing to fear.

But there was something to fear, wasn't there? His naivety, his stupidity, his inability to think things through, to see what was right in front of his eyes. Kristin - if that was her real name - had been a scammer, a person who preyed on the foolish of the world to make themselves rich. She'd watched him be affectionate with Henry, picked up on his reluctance to continue to the town, and had played him like a fucking fiddle. And he hadn't hesitated - hadn't even asked the most basic questions, like where she was from, or what she did for a living, or how she found five fucking magic beans and why she would just willingly give them up to a kid she didn't know for a skinny cow who couldn't make milk.

Gods above, no wonder Dream had so much trouble teaching him. He really was pathetic. 

He turned his back on the glade, on the half-eaten patch of clover and the browning apple crawling with ants, and headed deeper into the trees, away from the path to the village, away from the cottage and Dream, who'd be preparing for tomorrow's trip to the capital. What sky he could see between the heavy crowns of leaves adorning the trees began to streak with reds and oranges, before darkening towards purple as the sun set. Shadows began creeping from the underbrush just as he reached a small clearing, one not nearly as impressive as the glade, but good enough for the night. 

Tommy limped over to one of the large oaks that surrounded the clearing like soldiers on watch and sunk down between its roots, grimacing as the movement pressed against his back and squished his ribs together. The bandages wrapped around his torso were tight, probably too tight, but he didn't want to unwrap them and risk having someone passing by see something they weren't supposed to, so he left them on. His stomach complained at being empty, and he pressed a hand to his gut, trying to quiet it. He'd find some food in the morning - for now he just wanted to sleep and try to forget his aches and pains. He shuffled and settled down in the space, huffing as something poked at his hip. With a growl, he yanked the bag of beans from his pocket and emptied it into his hand.

To his shock, the beans that fell into his palm were plump and gold, sparkling with that odd purple-silver sheen once again. He picked one up between his fingers and examined it closely. The bean was perfectly smooth, the size and shape of a large lima bean, and warm to the touch. Silver and purple sparks fell from it, vanishing before they landed on his skin. He couldn't believe it.

The woman had given him magical beans that were enchanted specifically to fuck him over.

He growled and, with a flick of his finger, sent the bean spiraling through the air. It landed in the middle of the clearing, disappearing into the grass with a wholly unsatisfying lack of noise. For a minute he entertained the idea of tossing the others, but restrained himself. If the beans were truly magical, he could probably find someone to take them off his hands, hopefully for a decent amount of gold. If he didn't get arrested for being in possession of a magical artifact.

Okay, maybe he wouldn't try to sell them. Still, he dropped the remaining beans back in the pouch, then dropped the pouch to the ground. He'd deal with the stupid 'fuck-over-Tommy' beans in the morning - right now he just wanted to sleep and put this awful day behind him. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he settled between the large roots of the oak, trying to make himself comfortable against the rough bark. It was a fruitless endeavor, and he fell asleep with a knot poking at his shoulder and a root digging into his ankle. 

~*~

Tommy woke to something draped over his legs, keeping away the chill of morning. He shifted a bit, blindly groping for the edge of the blanket, wanting to tug it over his head and block the early sunshine from his eyes. He didn't remember having a blanket on his bed - Dream gave him one for the colder months, but it was mid-summer right now - but he wasn't going to argue against a bit of comfort. Not after how angry Dream had been yesterday. 

He tugged the blanket again and, oddly enough, it tugged back, springing out of his hand and sprinkling him in a fine, cold mist. With a yelp he jolted upright, back and neck sore and protesting from hunching awkwardly against a tree all night, and looked around. Everywhere he could see was - green. Just green. 

Tommy rubbed his eyes, wiping away the remains of sleep, and took another look. The majority of the clearing, which had been nothing but tall grass and wildflowers the night before, was now taken up by what appeared to be a giant green tree trunk, too large for him to wrap his arms around. The 'blanket' he'd been pulling on looked like a leaf, though it was easily large enough to be a bed. Slowly, careful of his sore ribs and throbbing ankle, he pushed himself to his feet and tried to make sense of the plant.

The middle was twisted, several separate trunks spiraling upwards, seeming to vanish into the clouds far above the forest. The leaves - all as large as the first, looking thick and rubbery, some dripping with early-morning dew - sprouted from the trunks, perky and green, healthy. Some small vines curled along them, and at the sight something in his mind clicked.

Beans.

The snap-pea vines in the garden had the same kind of curly-q stems that always emerged before growing a pod. He wasn't staring at a giant tree trunk - he was staring at a giant beanstalk. Pushing the leaf he'd been holding onto earlier aside, he hobbled forward, craning his neck back to try and take in the whole thing. He couldn't see any bean pods - would it have bean pods? If this thing grew from the gold magic bean he'd flicked away earlier, would the pods be gold? Or would they be green? He pressed a hand to the stalk and an odd, shimmery feeling washed over him - the same weird warmth the beans had radiated in his hand, but stronger, all-encompassing.

If there were beans hanging higher, how big would they be? Tommy stretched his arms out to either side, comparing his reach to the leaves around him, and concluded that any beans growing on this stalk would be more than enough to feed him until Dream came back from the tournament. Hell, one pod would probably be enough for a month of food! More than that, it would be enough to sell, to make up the fifty gold he owed Dream and beyond. They could have a fully-stocked larder for the first time in forever! No more scrounging for mushrooms at the forest edge or hoping the chickens laid enough eggs to sell and eat. They would be set for at least a year, if not more!

Backing away, he pushed aside the nearest leaf and squinted up at the stalk. It looked like it went into the clouds, but that was impossible - he always had to fix stakes and lines for the snap-pea vines to cling to. The vine likely ended just past the canopy, where the tree branches blocked his vision, and that's where the beans would be. He'd just have to climb up and shake a few loose! His ribs ached at the idea, and his back groaned, but he wasn't worried - he'd gone much higher, with much worse injuries. Besides, the bandages around his chest would keep his ribs in order. As for his back - well. There was nothing he could do for that.

Wiping his hands off on his shirt, Tommy stretched his fingers and examined the stalk. The twisting, spiraling vines made for plentiful handholds, and within moments he was off the ground, climbing easily around the leaves and curly-q stems that brushed against his shoulders and bounced with his weight. His ankle protested every time he had to put weight on it to shift around another leaf, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes on the prize. Not that he could see the prize - all he could spot as he climbed higher was more leaves, more stalk. 

After ten minutes he paused, straddling a thick leaf stem and resting his front against the stalk, flexing his fingers as he caught his breath. He figured he was halfway to the top by now - he hadn't taken his eyes off the stalk, too busy looking for handholds - and near the crown of the forest. Shaking out his wrists, he glanced down, ready to see the few meters of progress he had made. 

He did not expect to see the tops of the trees nearly twenty feet below him, swaying gently in the morning breeze. Jaw dropped, he stared out at the world, the rippling sea of green that swallowed almost everything he could see. To his left, the forest dropped off to a small valley, where the peaks of the houses could barely be seen. Far, far to his right, he could see where the forest began to thin, giving way to rolling hills. Tucked near the woods was a single, slightly-crooked chimney, where Dream's cottage and small farm was. 

Tommy should not be this high. Clinging to the stalk, he peered down again at the trees, at how the branches surrounded the stalk, brushing against it. He couldn't recall climbing past them, pushing leaves and twigs out of his way as he grappled the stalk to keep his balance. The sun didn't seem any higher than when he'd first started his climb, meaning he hadn't lost track of time and zoned out (as he sometimes did during boring chores and lessons). 

As if sensing his unease, a warmth pulsed against his hand from the stalk, and the nerves in his stomach quelled. Obviously he had been too focused on the end goal to notice a few silly branches in his way. He was Big Man Tommy Innit, some twigs and leaves weren't going to stop him from his adventure up the giant beanstalk! Pulling his gaze away from the trees, he tilted back a bit, trying to see if he was near the top yet. There were no hanging pods in sight, gold or otherwise, so he supposed there was still a ways to go. Pressing his feet firmly against the swirling stalk, he resumed his climb, ignoring the heated pain in his ankle and the protesting throb of his ribs. The magic leaking off the stalk, flowing through his fingers like a warm drink on a cool night, soothed the worst of the pain, urging him every upwards.

When he came back to himself, it was because of the cold. Blinking, he pulled back his hand, staring at the water droplets clinging to it, then looked around. Clouds - though they look more like thick fog this close up - surround him, soaking his shirt and pants and tickling his feet through his tattered shoes. A quick glance down showed the forest, town, and cabin in one view, and then beyond. He could see the large river to the east, and the capital city of Manberg just a speck at its far end. Beyond them, the ocean is a mere thread of silver on the horizon. Looking the other way revealed mountains, more villages and hamlets dotted in valleys and nestled among other forests, all trailing off to a patchwork quilt of farmland.

He hasn't been this high in years, not since before his parents left.

Tommy dug his nails into the stalk at the memory, and sap leaked onto his fingers. Instead of the thin, clear-green that came from his snap peas, the ichor was gold, thick like molten metal, and warm. He almost yanked his hands away - almost overbalanced backwards and threw himself from the stalk to what would inevitably be his death - but a warm, calming pulse slid down his arms, soothing away the shock and calming his heart. 

He had nothing to worry about - nothing to think of, except getting to the top and finding the bean pods. Heights had never bothered him, and the chilly wind and embrace of the clouds was invigorating. His aches and pains were nothing but a faint memory now, the magic dripping from the stalk a balm to his bruises. Once he was at the top - once he reached his goal, had his prize - he could worry about other things. For now, all he had to do was climb. That's what the magic told him.

So he did.

~*~

Awareness snapped back as the sun bathed his face, warm and welcoming, a drastic change from the chill of the towering clouds he'd pulled himself through. He paused, curling his fist around the nearest leaf stem, and tilted his head back to enjoy the warmth. The air felt warmer, too, which was odd - this high, above the clouds, should be freezing. His father had always made him dress warmly when they went anywhere near this high, and that was only for special occasions. Shaking away the thought with another pulse from the stalk, he looked around.

And promptly fell from his perch.

Luckily, the ground was not far - in fact, the ground was only a few feet away, dark soil damp and soft. He landed on his back, which cried in protest, the air knocked from his lungs. The sun continued to shine down cheerfully from the blue sky above, only a few wisps of cloud visible as they scuttled along in the higher winds. He wanted to move - he should, he doesn't know where he is, what dangers could be lurking - but his ribs and ankle both protested the idea, the pain bleeding back into his senses without the magic of the beanstalk to soothe it away. 

Speaking of the beanstalk, it had come to an end. It burst through the earth, as though this was where it had been planted, and hadn't grown to astronomical heights. From his vantage on the ground, he could see the way it twisted upon itself, growing thinner and thinner, until finally it began to bend, the stalks separating into a flare of curly-Q vines.  For a minute, Tommy doubted himself - doubted the ache in his fingers and toes, the chill still clinging to his damp clothes, the memory of staring down at the forest far below as he touched the clouds. But when he slowly pushed himself up and glanced around, he saw nothing familiar - this wasn't the clearing where the stalk originally grew. 

It reminded him of a jungle - he'd seen them before, etched in green ink in picture books and world maps. On either side of the dark dirt path he was sitting on were towering plants, though they seemed oddly separated, the ground cover rather sparse. To his left were bushes with thick, wide leaves that hung close to the ground, thick with veins and curling along the edges. To his right were thin stalks of what almost looked like bamboo, but they split apart just above the dirt and burst into leafy ferns near the top. The roots of some looked oddly orange. Beyond them were more plants - dark purple bushes made of overlapping, frilly leaves, short green trees clustered in the center of large, wavy fronds, and beyond all that were towering trees with thin gold trunks and no branches. The path stretched out to either side, vanishing into the horizon on one end, and at an odd cliff face on the other. 

When nothing jumped out from the jungle, Tommy pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his ribs as they throbbed in protest. There were a few odd structures he could see - in the distance, partially hidden in the not-bamboo, was what looked like some strange, collapsed tent, alongside a giant metal sled. Farther down the path he'd landed on (which was strangely wide and devoid of wagon tracks and footprints) was a large, metal building with a domed room and an odd chimney curling up from the side. He'd never seen something like it - all the buildings in the village were made of stone and wood, with glass windows if the family had the money. 

Maybe there was a door or something on the other side - it couldn't hurt to take a look, see if there was somebody there who knew where they were, and how he could get home. The dirt didn't crunch beneath his feet - it was damp and loose, and clung to his shoes in crumbling clumps as he walked. Unlike the soil at home, which was mostly dust and rock and required constant watering, this was loamy, perfect gardening soil. If the ground back home was like this, he'd never need to worry about his carrots or potatoes again! Maybe he could bring some home with him - just a couple sacks, enough to cover the vegetables and give them a better chance. 

He was halfway to the house before something moved in the leaves. He jumped, staring at the strange bushes on his left as the leaves shook, then shifted, and a bright red creature marched out. It was the size of a cat and had six legs and a round body, which was a mixture of black, white, and red. There were antennas sticking out above its eyes, waving wildly as it trundled past Tommy without a passing glance. The red shell on its back was split down the middle, each side dotted with a reflection of black spots, and as it brushed past him part of the shell parted and little clear wings buzzed before settling back down. Without a sound it crossed the path, disappearing in the odd almost-bamboo. 

That…was a ladybug. 

Tommy stared at where it had disappeared, trying dazedly to get his brain to restart. That had been a ladybug, an insect that shouldn't have been half as big as his finger nail, but he could have easily picked it up and given it a hug (not that he would). So he had ended up in a jungle that had giant ladybugs. That was, uh, something. Something great! Never let it be said that Tommy wasn't anything but respectful to the ladies! His many, many wives would agree with that. And if the ladies here were bigger than normal, well, good for them. 

Shaking off his shock, he started towards the metal house again, and if he was walking a bit faster than before, well, that was his business. He'd nearly made it, veering slightly off the center of the path to approach the wall, when the ground shook. It was barely a tremble at first, just enough to make him pause before putting his foot down. There was an accompanying sound - a booming thud that seemed to roll through the jungle - and he paused, but nothing emerged from the trees. A moment later the sound repeated, and the ground shook more noticeably. He picked up his pace until he was right next to the building, ignoring the screaming of his ankle as he leaned against it, glancing at the foliage as he tried to pick out where the noise was coming from. 

It repeated again, over and over, growing louder like a fast-approaching storm, and the trembling of the earth grew with it. Tommy flattened himself against the building and moved around it slowly, until the weird bushes were at his back and he could peer down at the path that stretched into the horizon without being spotted. The sound felt like it was almost upon him, and then a shadow fell over the path and the plants, and a mountain stepped into view.

The mountain had two arms, two legs, pink hair, and was at the very least seventy feet tall. Tommy's father had taught him all about estimating heights and distances - it was important for them to understand, to avoid obstacles, so he'd learned and practiced, even after being taken in by Dream. Now, he felt a flicker of regret - maybe if he didn't have a good grasp on space and size, he wouldn't be leaning so heavily against the metal building, trying to keep his trembling legs beneath him as the mountain stepped onto the path, which was just large enough for it to stand without crushing any of the plants.

He (at least Tommy thought it was a he, the boy wasn't about to go up and ask the walking mountain for their pronouns) was looking around at the plants, hands on hips, dressed in a pair of dark trousers tucked into leather boots and a white shirt with flowing sleeves. His hair was a soft pink, tied back from his face and falling over one shoulder in a loose braid. Gold glinted in his floppy pink ears, and more shone from the tusks that curled from his mouth, which was drawn in a relaxed line as he surveyed the land. When the giant turned slightly, Tommy caught sight of a tail, long and thin with a tuft of pink fur on the end, waving slowly behind him. 

There were two reasons what Tommy was seeing was impossible. 

The first was that giants were extinct. They had been for five hundred years, their entire race brought to an end by the famous Jack the Giant Slayer. All of the kingdom knew of Jack - he'd been a young knight-in-training at the time, when the giants had begun to grow too powerful, too dangerous, to coexist with the humans in the kingdom. A war had started, and many humans had been killed by the giants. Then Jack had been gifted a pair of enchanted goggles (everyone argued about whether they had red or blue lenses) and tasked with destroying the giants by the king himself. Jack had set off into the forest with his most trusted warriors and killed the last of the giants. He'd returned alone, his friends and allies killed in the final battle, and at last the land had been safe.

The second was that hybrids were illegal and not to be seen. They had magic, the same kind as giants. At first they'd been accepted with the giants gone, them being the larger threat. Then a botched assassination attempt on the royal family by a group of hybrids had soured that relationship, and the overwhelmingly human population had turned against them. Most left, escaping through the mountains or over the seas to kinder kingdoms that welcomed their magic and odd traits. Some stayed, hiding ears and tails and other features as best they could to remain in their homeland. There were rumors of small villages, communes, of hybrids deep in forests and high atop mountains, who lived openly with their magic, unafraid of the kingdom's hatred towards them. As the generations shifted, less and less hybrids appeared, and eventually almost none were born. Those that remained hid as best they could, never touching their magic, not knowing how to light the spark that laid within them. They were still dangerous, however - still inhuman, still not meant to be among the normal good folk of the kingdom. 

That's what Dream had told him, at least - he could remember the picture books about Jack from when he went to school in the city, but everything he learned about hybrids came from the knight, after he'd taken him in. The giant standing at the end of the path stood in direct contrast to what he'd been taught - a dual contradiction to what Tommy knew was true. 

Giants were extinct, and hybrids weren't to be seen.

Yet there stood a giant, with very obvious piglin hybrid traits on full display.

While Tommy wrestled with his inner turmoil and the trembling of his legs, the giant knelt down and examined the leaves of the odd bushes. He wrapped his large hands (large enough to pick Tommy up, large enough to snatch him, large enough to crush him without a thought) around one bundle of leaves and carefully pulled them up, revealing a large brown lump dangling from the bottom. 

That was a potato.

That was a potato that was bigger than Tommy.

Tommy dug his nails into the side of the metal building (not a building, he glanced up at the chimney - the spout, it was a goddamned watering can), trying to keep himself upright. He'd never, in all his fourteen years, thought he'd be in this situation. Not outside of playing pretend with Tubbo, not outside of his own imagination.

The giant examined the potato, brushing away the dirt that clung to it, before nodding to himself and setting it aside. He dusted his hands off on his trousers and glanced around the garden (a garden, not a jungle - neat rows of plants growing eagerly beneath the summer sun in the rich soil, thriving beneath the giants' care), inspecting them all with a critical crimson eye. His gaze swept over the path and he paused. Tommy's heart leapt into his throat - had he been seen? The giant was standing now, and Tommy flattened himself against the watering can, praying that the hybrid's ears couldn't pick up on his racing heart or stuttering breath. 

Lady Death must have been watching out for him, because the giant passed without even glancing at the watering can. He cast a shadow over the path as he stomped by, steps shaking the ground enough that Tommy sunk to his knees, still leaning against the can to keep from landing on his ass. The giant stopped by the beanstalk, bending over to examine it, and the human felt his stomach fall in a sick swoop - the plant barely reached the giant's knee. 

Said giant didn't seem very pleased to see a stalk he hadn't planted growing strong and healthy from the soil. He humphed and muttered something to himself, sliding one of the leaves between his fingers and giving it a tug. A bit louder, he grunted, "Why is one of her plants here?" Another tug at the leaf and it slipped between his fingers, the whole plant snapping back before swaying into place. He ran a large hand down his face, before growling and wrapping a fist around the stalk, squishing the leaves in his way. An odd glow surrounded his fingers, a strange thrum lit the air, and in seconds the plant withered, all life drained from it, leaving only a decayed brown stem and some dried, crinkled leaves behind.

Tommy couldn't breathe.

Not only had the giant - the hybrid giant - just destroyed his only hope of returning home (probably), he'd done so with magic. Magic he'd used as easily as breathing, without an incantation or spell circle or potion. Magic that was dangerous, that was deadly. Magic that had been stamped out in the kingdom for the safety of everyone, magic that he had no defense against, magic that made something within him flicker and wake for the first time in seven years, magic that worked, unlike Dream's. 

He pressed a curled fist to his chest, trying to drag a breath into his lungs, which felt like shriveled grapes on a sun-scorched vine. They fought against the air, and he wheezed, faintly recognizing that he was panicking but unsure of how to calm down. His usual counting breaths tactic didn't seem like enough with the enormity of the situation. He shuffled back, pushing his heels against the dirt so he was better hidden around the curve of the watering can, out of sight of the giant, and grabbed his hair, tugging harshly on it. The pain was grounding, somewhat, snapping him out of the overwhelming fear. It was still there - still crawling up his throat, still cramping his empty stomach and making him nauseous, but he was able to drag in a strangled breath, and with one breath came a second, and then a third, all loud and gasping like a dry docked fish but there nonetheless. 

The giant shifted, ground trembling beneath his boots, and made a curious sound - like a 'heh?' only far too loud. Tommy pressed himself closer to the watering can, as though he could meld with the metal and vanish from sight if only he got close enough. The giant's shadow grew longer as he stood, enveloping the can and Tommy, and the ground began to quake as he stepped closer. 

Oh god, this was it. Even if he wanted to run, to try and disappear in the foliage of the potato greens ahead of him, his ankle wouldn't hold him up. His ribs were screaming in protest at his breathing, as shallow as it was, and the world was tilting a bit with the lack of oxygen. The giant would find him, no doubt, and he'd be easy pickings. Fee-fi-fuck-him, there was nothing he could do against a giant piglin hybrid that could use magic.

"Techno!"

The shout - loud enough to rattle his eardrums - startled Tommy, the back of his head crashing against the watering can as he jerked at the sudden noise. He whipped his head to the other side of the path, the one that stretched out into nothing instead of ending at a cliff (a fence, now that he could place it - a wooden plank fence that seemed to surround all of the garden but the entrance, bleached gray-white by the years in the sun). Another giant had appeared, this one blonde and wearing a stupid-looking bucket hat, and a black shirt beneath robes of gold-trimmed green. There was some weird backpack or cloak peeking over his shoulders. He had a wide smile on his scruffy face, blue eyes sparkling as he pushed his hat back and hailed the other giant.

"Phil." Giant number one - Techno, apparently? - greeted with a grunt. "There a reason your wife is growing plants in my garden again?" 

The shadow moved past his hiding spot, and Tommy watched as feet large as wagons passed him by, heading down the path to greet giant number two - Phil. What kind of terrifying giant name was Phil? Techno he could get behind - there was something sinister about the harsh sound that came in the middle, the ch, the te-CH-no. Tech-no. No. No mercy. But Phil? That was all rounded corners and soft curves, and the man looked it, too. He was shorter than Techno by a bit - Tommy squinted and remembered his fathers lessons on estimating, and figured he must be about sixty feet, maybe sixty-one. The odd outfit covered most of his frame, but his fingers were thin and delicate, his cheekbones defined. Compared to the absolute brute that was the piglin hybrid, he looked like a stick. 

Phil grinned, reaching up to pull off his hat so he could run a hand through his tangle of blonde hair. The white feathers that framed his face in place of ears fluffed up as they were freed from his horrible choice of headwear, flicking before he soothed them down. The not-a-cloak shifted, then stretched out into a truly impressive pair of large wings, the feathers a deep blue-gray, striped with thin lines of white and black. The avian hybrid - and why not, why not two giant hybrids, honestly how could it make this whole situation any worse? - shook out his feathers, then let his wings rest half-folded against his back, a relaxed pose that Tommy had once seen often on his own father.

His back strained, atrophied muscles stretching in a vain attempt to mimic what he had seen, and Tommy had to bite back a jealous warble at the sight. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rough bandages beneath the worn fabric of his shirt, reminding himself that he couldn't stretch his wings, that he hadn't been able to for a long time. The giants spoke as he battled his instincts, oblivious to the mental war happening among their potatoes.

"Phil, why do you look guilty?" 

"Mate, it's not what you think!"

"And what do I think?"

"Well it's nothing bad, I swear. It's a gift!"

"...a gift."

"From my wife. Y'know, the La-"

"I know who your wife is, Phil."

"Yeah, well, she just popped by an hour or so ago and dropped her off for you."

Techno shuffled, kicking up dirt with his heels, nearly crushing a beetle that was trundling by without a thought. The beetle seemed unbothered, but the sharp movement rattled Tommy enough that he jumped, pulling himself to his feet so he was in a better position for proper fight or flight. Shaking off his instincts, shoving them back down into the well Dream had helped him build and locking them away, he refocused on the giants and their conversation. The two seemed completely oblivious to him, so he dared to edge forward a bit, still pressed against the watering can but able to see more of the pair.

Phil was holding a rope, leading to something just out of sight behind the fenceline. Techno was leaning against said fence, staring at the avian with a truly impressive flat expression. Tommy was pretty sure he'd seen more emotion in Dream's mask. 

"Your wife stole you a cow as a gift? What anniversary is that?"

The avian sighed, a full-body affair - he rolled his eyes heavenwards and slumped his shoulders, wings ruffling with annoyance. Tommy's dad had done the same thing when he asked too many questions, or interrupted boring adult conversations. The familiar movement made him feel - fond, oddly, of the giant, though he quickly shoved the very idea into his well of feelings-we-don't-think-about alongside his instincts. What a stupid idea, feeling fond of a giant!

"The fourth," Phil's deadpan wasn't nearly as good as Techno's, but he gave it his best shot, "but it only counts if the cow jumped over the moon first." The piglin's mouth twitched at the corner, and he leaned back, still looking skeptical. "But it's not our anniversary," the avian gently tugged on the rope, pulling what was apparently a cow closer, "and Kristin bought her for you." 

Said cow clomped into sight, large head hovering at Phil's shoulder, and blinked her large, liquid eyes as she took in Techno. The piglin huffed, but raised a hand and rested it between her ears, giving her a gentle pat. She lowed, sniffing at his arm curiously, tilting her head to the side so Tommy could see the scar lining the side of her cheek, ending just beneath her left eye.

Tommy knew that scar.

He'd been there when it happened.

He could still remember the smell of blood mixed with stale hay, the dripping of the wound as Henry cried in pain, the stern expression on Dream's face as he pulled the knife back.

Standing between the two giants, now towering a near-unfathomable height herself, was Henry.

Huge thanks to Moonstone for beta-ing for me! So this started out as a crack idea and then the worldbuilding got away from me so...have some lore-heavy Dream SMP in Mother Goose Land! I already have ideas for a couple other stories (Wilbur and the Three Bears and Rapunzel starring Technoblade). I hope you enjoyed, if you did please PLEASE leave a comment! Even just an 'I like this write more!' really helps me stay motivated!

Cheers, all you lovely, lovely peeps!

#mcyt #dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp kristin #philza #philza minecraft #philza dsmp #technoblade #technoblade dsmp #mcyt g/t #g/t #giant/tiny #Jack and the Beanstalk #Fairy Tale AU #Arc Writes